


Zephyrantes

by MaSHiro_Combo



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, But only a little, Detective!Soonyoung, Humor, I ramble on and on and never get to the point, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, My tags are all over the place, Or My Bad Attempt At Humor, Past Relationship(s), Romance, Somewhat Inspired by Banana Fish, Thriller, artist!jihoon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2020-07-31 14:22:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20116525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaSHiro_Combo/pseuds/MaSHiro_Combo
Summary: Zephyrantes, also known as rainflowers: I love you back, I must atone for my sins, and I will never forget you."You want him, the next Leonardo da Vinci, to draw caricatures at the city fair?""He's the one that wanted to meet my boyfriend."Jihoon is a soon-to-be famous artist who spends his day staring at a canvas rather than painting on it. His life takes a huge turn when two paintings are stolen from the gallery, and one of them is his. In order to get the paintings back, Jihoon teams up with his policemen friends, the gallery owner, a grumpy secretary stalked by a nosy but handsome reporter, and an extremely charming detective to let go of his past and save their future. But soon they discover that there are more things churning in the busy city than an art thief.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is reposted due to many changes. First, I changed up the story because the old plot had too many plotholes. Second, I did not like how I ended chapter one, so I made it longer. Besides this, there was some other mistakes like tagging and a whole list of problems I won't go into. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy reading! Thank you for being here!

“You want him, the next Leonardo da Vinci, to draw caricatures at the city fair?” Hansol stares at the older males with eyes wide and eyebrows touching the sky. Sitting in front of him on the other side of the table, Seungcheol elbows a scowling Jihoon. They’re sitting at the popular smoothie shop at the bottom of their shared apartment. It was midday, the summer light streaming through the window lit up the cheery and colorful shop. The light that bounced off Vernon’s rainbow shirt dances on the squeaky clean table. It was just starting to get busy, with the chatter of other people mixing with the clink of glass and the whine of machines to bring the busy scene to life.

Seungcheol shrugs. “Not caricatures, painting. Also, he’s the one that wanted to meet my boyfriend.” Jihoon tries to push Seungcheol off the red booth bench they were sitting on but to no avail. Damn, he really needs to go back to the gym and not sit around staring at a half-painted canvas. Hansol takes this moment to steal a sip from Seungcheol’s smoothie.

“Fuck you policemen, all you do is work out.” Jihoon groans as he stirs his slushie. “I can’t torture you if I can’t even pin you down.”

“You were a policeman just five months ago! And you used to work out the most!” Seungcheol says as he grabs at air and realizes his drink is gone. A glare is sent in Hansol’s direction.

“But, are you going to agree to that, Picasso?” Hansol grins as Seungcheol snatches his drink back.

“Name one more artist,” Jihoon points lazily, “if you can do that, I’ll tell you if I’m doing it or not.”

It’s Hansol’s turn to groan and Seungcheol’s to giggle. “It’s time to study those art magazines that comes in the mail every month for our midget artist.” This earns Seungcheol a kick underneath the table. Jihoon’s not quite sure how three boys from three very different worlds became friends, but after they graduated, the roommates decided to keep living together since they formed a team in the police department along with Minghao, who came from China and graduated from the same college. Seungcheol works as the head of the small investigation team of the city’s police force, with Hansol and Minghao still working under him. Jihoon, however, decided to quit the team five months ago and follow his passion for art.

A bit longer, he thinks, until he becomes famous, moves out, and will never see these two again.

Or, more like he tells himself.

“Anyways,” Hansol leans forward, “are you going to do it?”

“Ah, I don’t know.” Jihoon lifts his black cap, smoothing his black hair back before setting the cap back on his head. He pushes his round glasses up. “Is half a day of grueling work with people really worth seeing Seungcheol’s horrible taste in lovers?”

“Hey, he’s not horrible, he’s way better than all my ex’s.” Seungcheol protests, causing Jihoon to raise an eyebrow. “Don’t look at me like that, you know it wasn’t my decision when your brother and I broke up.” A glance at Hansol holding back laughter prompts Seungcheol’s annoyance. “Shut it kid, maybe I should assign Seungkwan to a different task this time.” At the mention of the bright boy’s name, Hansol’s face goes red.

“Hey, I said I’ll wash the dishes for two months!” He holds up two fingers to emphasize his point.

“Besides, my boyfriend told me that he reserved a stage to speak for the art gallery opening, but he doesn’t know what to do with it for the morning.” Seungcheol explains, “so I told him I’ll find someone to help out! And Hansol and I will be there too.”

The other two are surprised. “Me?” Hansol points to himself. Jihoon, on the other hand, mutters, “Rich, stuck up strangers and two idiots. My favorite crowds to work with.”

Seungcheol thinks silently for a moment, and Jihoon can see a lightbulb glow over his head when his face brightens. “Oh, I almost forgot. Seungkwan will be there too."

"Okay, make that three idiots." Jihoon had only met Seungkwan once, when the younger was spending the night at their shared apartment in order to finish a police report. One night was enough to convince Jihoon that Seungkwan runs on sugar and caffeine heated to the highest particle energy possible.

Needless to say, even hiding in his room wasn't enough to stop the boy's radiant energy from keeping Jihoon up all night.

But Hansol’s caught. “Jihoon, come on. Besides, you like art, right? It’s only half a day. You’re so good it wouldn’t even take you that long to paint one painting. Also, if some rich, stuck up stranger buys it, that’s a lot of money right there. You know how rich people are, you can throw up paint and they’ll find some deep meaning in your art.”

He’s not completely wrong. Jihoon can probably earn several months of rent from one painting. He’s also not wrong about Jihoon’s skill with a pencil or a brush in a limited amount of time.

That is, when he actually has an idea of what he wants to paint. But as an artist, Jihoon is pretty sure he spends more time thinking about what to paint than actually painting. Or, more accurately, deciding that his ideas aren’t worth painting than actually deciding on something to paint. Sometimes going to his studio makes him claustrophobic and trying to paint something is like drawing blood. It sucks all the life out of him, and he spends the next days laying around, trying to find more inspiration.

But he really doesn’t want to go back and stare at the half-painted, gray, drab_, boring _canvas for another two days at the very least.

Jihoon takes a sip of his slushie and sighs. “Fine, I’ll do it. But only because I want to pay the rent.” Hansol cheers.

“Alright, then that’s decided. Hansol, you and Jihoon can meet me in the fair ground’s convention building at... 5 a.m.”

Seungcheol checks his watch as Jihoon and Hansol utter an exaggerated “EH?!”

A loud “that’s so early!” bounces around the walls of the smoothie place, and crowds of glances following quickly behind. Jihoon tilts his baseball cap down slightly and laughs breathlessly.

Oh, Jihoon is so going to regret this.

———

5:22 a.m. the next day, Jihoon and Hansol are sitting under the large tree towering over the glassy modern convention building. Hansol complains for the tenth time, “why the fuck are we here so early?” There were a few people at the entrance already, waiting in lines to buy a pass and hopefully ride the rides without standing in long lines. Beyond the gates, the smell of carnival food drifts in the air, and Jihoon can hear the slight whir of machines coming to life and getting ready for a long day.

But really, it’s ironic, Jihoon thinks. Coming early just to spend more time in a line before possibly standing in more lines?

If it was up to Jihoon, he would say the entire fair is just an excuse to get horribly sunburnt and plenty of food poisoning.

Some would say he’s pessimistic, but in truth, Jihoon cares a good amount about his wellbeing. Unlike a certain late someone. Does he not think Jihoon and Hansol can murder him in his sleep? They didn’t go through police training for nothing.

“We’re not early,” not even looking up, Jihoon groans as he draws shapes in the dry, crumbling earth. “Seungcheol is a late motherfucker.” 

“Who’s a late motherfucker?” Jihoon curses under his breath as a shadow looms over him and looks up into the face of a grinning Seungcheol. A slightly shorter, slimmer man stands beside him, wearing a collared blue shirt, khaki pants, and sunglasses. And just one glance tells Jihoon that those are some expensive as fuck sunglasses that aren’t really for protecting your eyes, it’s for blinding other people’s eyes with your money.

He looks very familiar to him, but maybe_, just maybe_, all rich people look alike. Jihoon does think he seems like Seungcheol's type: extremely tacky and dorky but somehow pulls it off. And Jihoon respects him just a little bit for that.

“You are,” Jihoon dusts himself off as he stands. He looks down at his watch. “You are twenty-three minut-“

When Jihoon looks up, the man had taken off his sunglasses.

No wonder his sunglasses are so expensive looking.

Oh, Seungcheol is so dead tonight.

“Jihoon?” The man smiles and Jihoon sputters, embarrassed. “When Seungcheol said he had an artist friend, I didn’t think it was you. What a small world.”

_When Seungcheol said his boyfriend was speaking for the gallery opening, I didn't think it was the fucking owner_. Jihoon thinks while continuing to glare at the fore mentioned man.

Hansol walks up beside Jihoon, “Wait a minute, who are you?”

“I’m Jisoo Hong, the owner of the gallery downtown.”

Seungcheol is so confused he’s almost speechless. Almost. “Wait, do you two know each other?”

It takes Hansol a moment to understand, but his face starts contorting as he holds in laughter. Jihoon pinches him and Hansol protests. “Don’t say anything. You’re helping me beat the shit out of Seungcheol tonight.” Jihoon whispers, causing Hansol to quietly cheer.

Jisoo grins at his boyfriend as he sticks the sunglasses into his shirt pocket. “I was just negotiating his debut as an artist at my gallery like… yesterday.”

Then it clicked. But it’s too late for redemption.

“Uh, Jihoon’s debut. Right.” Seungcheol looks like he’s about to cry, especially at the sight of an angry, short artist with tons of sharp brushes in his studio. Not to mention the paint mixer. “You know what, I have to pick up Seungkwan. He’s... having trouble opening a car door these days. Yeah, that’s it.”

“Wait, really?” Comes a worried outburst from Hansol as Seungcheol turns and scrambles off. “Hey, hey! Hold up!” He chases after the older, waving his hands in the air.

“How in the holy fuck did Hansol fall for that one?” Jihoon jokes to cover up his nervousness.

Jisoo looks at their shrinking forms with an amused smile. He then turns to face Jihoon. “So,” he laughs, “how do you feel about painting right now?”

———

Jihoon is not exactly sure how he ended up in his situation.

There’s an artist standing on the stage, sparkling in the spotlight, with a medium-sized, blank canvas on a dark wooden easel, expensive paints lined up on equally fancy decorative tables and countless brushes stacked in meticulously made brush stands, and the artist is standing with a flat brush in hand, neck bent up, eyes squinting to watch as the yellow lights in the large auditorium dims, and-

Oh, wait.

Jihoon flips the flat brush in his right hand.

Shit.

As the people in the room quiet, Jihoon finally takes in his surroundings. Men and women in expensive suits sitting in plush red chairs, whispering among themselves. Maybe 30, 40 people, filling in the front 3 rows. Shiny brand name purses and suitcases sitting at their feet, in their laps. Their eyes, some hidden behind fancy sunglasses, even though the interior of the large room is dark, were on him. He can feel them trained on his face, his body, and it makes him anxious.

Jihoon is pretty sure he stole his black dress shirt from Seungcheol after he folded the laundry last week. A black baseball cap sits on his messily combed black hair. He felt his glasses slip down a bit from the sweat forming on his face.

He doesn’t belong here at all.

“This is Lee Jihoon,” Jisoo is introducing him, talking proudly into a microphone. “He’s painted several pieces which will be revealed at my gallery in two weeks. Until then, you’ll have to live with the mystery of what his art looks like.” A wink summons some chuckles from the mostly stoic crowd. “No, really, you don’t. Because he’s here to paint for you today.” Jisoo walks up to him and wraps a reassuring arm over his shoulders. “And what is our artist going to paint today?” The mic moves to Jihoon’s lips.

Jihoon thinks he’s going to explode. From embarrassment? From anxiety?

He’s been quiet for so long. He should answer Jisoo’s question.

What’s the best thing to paint when you’re trying to please a room of rich, cranky art lovers who want to toss him off the stage and into a vault of tar?

His voice is a bit shaky when he answers, “I’m going to paint sunflowers.”

Probably nothing, Jihoon’s dead no matter what ends up on the canvas. But. He can have some fun making his death more miserable.

A murmur rose from the crowd. Jihoon saw some skeptic glances. As Jisoo walked off the stage, Jihoon takes a look at the small jars of paint. The canvas is about the size of a flat-screen TV; he finds a good focal point and dips the flat brush into the reddest red available to him.

Several gasps reach Jihoon’s ears when he swiped the paint over the canvas. He grins to himself.

Is he trying to blind his audience? Or is the redder than red symbolic?

It’s probably both. But mostly the latter. Maybe. Hopefully.

He continues to add color, tan, yellow, orange, more red, and even without turning around to look at his audience he knows he has already killed his career as an artist. Every time he added something different, washed his brush to add a new color, refined details with smaller, pointier brushes, gasps and whispers reached his ears. He can feel their heavy heartbeats from his high spot on the stage, getting faster with every darker shade of red he adds to the canvas.

He’s not even sure how much time has passed; when Jihoon steps back, he is greeted by a dark image of two hands cupping a glowing sunflower, stained from the blood pouring from the large gashes on the palms and fingers.

Jihoon doesn’t want them to see him differently. He doesn’t want them to look up to him. He doesn’t care if they like it or not.

The room designed to make noise echo off the walls is silent. Has it sunk in? Did they see the meaning in his painting?

From the corner of the room, someone claps. It breaks through the silence, bouncing off the wall over and over and over. More and more hands join in, and it sounds like the unstoppable flow of a stream.

Jihoon turns to watch them for the first time since his introduction by Jisoo. It was as if they were awed, eyes wide, one woman was crying at the foot of the stage.

Jihoon can’t tell if it’s hilarious that they’re being so dramatic, or really, really sad.

But when he turned back to his painting, it suddenly towered over him. His head pounded to the beat of his heavy, racing heart. The brush, still covered in paint, drops to the ground. The noise startled him and Jihoon leans down to pick it up, but he can’t grab it. It’s so far away.

The red paint splatter stares back at him. Taunting him.

_I'm begging you._ A voice creeps up from his brain.

Jihoon stands up quickly, bumping into Jisoo, who sucks in air through his teeth from the pain. “Jihoon, what’s wrong?” His hand grabs Jihoon’s shoulder but it’s quickly shrugged off.

Jihoon realizes he’s been staring at Jisoo for a while. People are rushing to the stage now to get a closer look at his piece. His head is spinning. It’s crowded in here, he’s sweating, it’s hot, but he’s shivering.

_Can't you just paint something?_

This is ridiculous, he can’t even control his own body anymore.

_It's too late._

“How much!” A man shouts. Jihoon is startled by the sheer size of the crowd and their desperate movements. A strong hand grasps his wrist. The man is leaning really close now. “How much for this painting? I need to have it.”

_He's not here anymore. He's gone. _

This causes something in Jihoon to snap. “I- I don’t know.” He jerks his arm from the man and sprints towards the back of the stage, brushing by a worried Jisoo calling to him. He’s not even trying to remember which turns he took, which heavy red curtains he’s dodged into, which door he opens and closes all too quickly.

He finds himself in a room identical to the stage room he painted in earlier. He sinks down to the floor between two rows of folded plush chairs and brushes the sweat from his face. Only a second later, he realizes that there were tears as well dripping down his face. His shirt clings to his frame and the only thing keeping his round glasses from falling to the floor and shattering is the very end of his nose. Jihoon‘s heaving, chest convulsing in an attempt to keep itself alive.

It's in this moment, when Jihoon takes in his surroundings, that something reaches his ears. An explosion of colors floods his senses, and Jihoon scrunches his eyes together to blink it away. The music from a grand piano swirls around the room, like a paintbrush mixing paint.

Jihoon finds himself standing up, clutching the back of the chairs for support. The music stops, and a pair of eyes meet his.

He has an amused expression. Eyes pointing up, dark red hair framing a round face and distinctive cheeks, mouth tilted into a smirk. He is facing Jihoon, but his slim hands remain on the keys of the piano. The tie around his unbuttoned collar was loose and it droops on his white shirt.

Jihoon suddenly finds his hands itching to paint, itching to find the right colors.

“You know if you wanted to listen to me play the piano, you could have asked.” His voice rang through the room.

Jihoon is struggling to keep himself together. He feels the need to catapult himself out of the universe. Or at least out of this room. He’s sweaty, there are tears drying on his unavoidably red face, and his glasses make him look like the old librarian in high school dramas.

The man stands up and walks towards him with his hands shoved into the pockets of his black dress pants. Every instinct is telling Jihoon to get the hell out of there, but the only thought in his mind at this moment is how undeniably attractive this man is.

He’s standing a foot away from him now, leaning down slightly to look at Jihoon’s face. His fingers grab the edge of his baseball cap and lift it up slowly.

Jihoon decides he hates him. Jihoon wanted to be alone, working on his paintings, raising cats in his quiet apartment until he becomes old and wrinkly and his hands can’t lift paint brushes anymore. That was his fail-proof plan for his future. Oh, and maybe murder Seungcheol for the sake of it.

“Oh my, were you crying?” Jihoon blinks at him. “Is your painting skills that horrible?” A grin spread on the man’s face, squeezing his cheeks outward. The man brushes Jihoon’s cheekbone with his thumb and brings it up to Jihoon’s eyes.

While painting, Jihoon had rubbed his face with his hand, and a spot of red paint stayed on his face, all without him noticing. In fact, his clothes are covered with swipes and splatters of paint. Just this embarrassing thought rushes blood to his face.

A door opens on the stage. A deep voice called out, “Soonyoung?” Sharp eyes and square glasses peek out from the curtain. It was a tall man wearing a dark green shirt and a shoulder raised to press a phone against his right ear. His hands are busy scratching something onto a clipboard with a pen. The pupils fall on Jihoon. “Well, I found him. Alright. Yes, Jisoo, he’s in Stage 7. Soonyoung’s in here too.”

The man standing in front of him, Soonyoung, whines. “Wonwoo, I was trying to have a cool moment here. Why do you have to cock block me all the time?”

The other man, Wonwoo, raises an eyebrow. “Soonyoung, he’s worth millions of dollars right now. Of course he’s my priority. Besides, I just got this job, I’m not going to get fired by Jisoo before the gallery even opens, especially not because of you.”

“Fuck your job, fuck Jisoo, I’m tired of looking at his dumb paintings and determining if they’re Picasso, Vinci, Van Gogh, Dali, Vermeer-“

“Stop listing artists just because you can remember all of them.”

He proceeds to finish his thoughts anyways. "And where the fuck to hang the paintings." Soonyoung places his hands on his hips. “Wonwoo, that’s harsh, I’ll have you know this memory of mine solved so many- wait.” He turns to Jihoon again, his eyebrows raised. “I think I found your runaway artist.”

Jihoon is lost, but manages to retort “you didn’t find me, I ended up here.”

“He speaks!” Soonyoung seems overly excited as he points to Jihoon.

The double doors slam open as Jisoo marches in, Seungcheol, Hansol, and Seungkwan walking behind him like bodyguards summoned on their vacation. “I was so worried. Jihoon, what happened?” Jisoo said softly as he made his way down the aisle.

“Jisoo, not you too!” Soonyoung whines again, earning him a laugh from Wonwoo and a confused face from Jisoo. “I know Wonwoo’s jealous that he has an empty bottle for a love life but you have the camel dude!” The group made their way to Jihoon and Soonyoung. Seungcheol slings his arm over Soonyoung’s shoulder and squeezes.

“Who are you calling camel dude?” Seungkwan drapes over the chairs laughing as Hansol attempts to free Soonyoung from said camel dude’s death grip. “Besides, Soonyoung, I haven’t gotten your report from the investigation last week. When are you going to write it? I don’t give a damn that you have a good memory, I need it turned in.”

Jisoo pushes past Soonyoung and Seungcheol to stand in front of Jihoon. “Jihoon, this is Soonyoung. He works as a detective in Seungcheol’s team.” He motions towards the squabbling two.

Wonwoo walks up to join them. “Don’t let him get you too excited, he’s just a geek for Sherlock and Detective Conan.”

“I’m not a geek, Wonwoo, I’m a man of culture,” Soonyoung interjected while pushing Seungcheol off him with the help of Hansol. “And he,” he points at Wonwoo, “is Wonwoo, training to be Jisoo’s evil underling and probably eats children for breakfast.”

“Ew, no. Children don’t have enough nutritious value to last me the day.” Wonwoo replies, handing the clipboard to Jisoo. “That’s your best comeback?”

Seungkwan speaks up. “Don’t worry, Jihoon, we are all friends since elementary school, you won’t find Wonwoo on the news tomorrow. But you might be able to find Soonyoung dead.”

“Hey! I may be a detective but I’m still required to do physical training!”

Jisoo is exasperated. “Okay, okay, Soonyoung, Wonwoo, Seungkwan, this is Jihoon. He’s going to be my ticket to a fancy art gallery it seems, so try not to involve him in your random acts of insanity.”

"Hello, I'm Seungkwan. I'm sure we've met before. Jisoo is my cousin. I also work on Seungcheol's team."

Jisoo hands Jihoon a clipboard. “So many people made offers today. I decided that the painting would be auctioned at the gallery on the opening night. I hope that’s not too selfish of me.”

Jihoon shakes his head as he looks at the clipboard; the starting bid amount extends across the paper. He’s shocked.

“I only painted that to surprise them. I didn’t think they would like it.”

_I don't want to see, stop wasting my time._

"Jihoon?" Jihoon flinches as he looks up. Soonyoung's nose was almost touching his. "Are you okay?"

Wonwoo is standing in the next row, and he extends an arm to push Soonyoung back. “You can talk to him from a normal human conversation distance, Soonyoung.” Soonyoung pouts as Seungkwan adds, “if I didn’t know your personality I would say you’re hitting on him.”

Soonyoung turns, offended. “Hey, I don’t talk like this to everyone!” Jihoon felt his ears turn red and he wants to pull his shirt over his face to hide his embarrassment.

Seungcheol’s glare shushes the loud duo from continuing to argue. “At least Wonwoo isn’t talkative, I can’t imagine having three of you loud ass people in the same room. Keep arguing and I’m increasing your workloads next week.” This silences the two boys, Seungkwan’s face in a cute pout and Soonyoung’s in a cheeky smile.

“So, as I promised to Seungkwan and Soonyoung, lunch is on me today.” Jisoo chuckles. “Would you two like to join us?” He looks at Hansol and Jihoon.

Hansol doesn’t even hesitate. “Yes, I’d like to have something other than instant ramen.”

“It’s only because you refuse to eat all the vegetables I cook!” Seungcheol sticks out his tongue.

"Who the fuck likes to eat vegetables?"

A silence follows. Expectant glances land on Jihoon's face. They're waiting for him to reply now, Jihoon realizes.

There’s an image nagging at the back of his head, pleading to be painted. He doesn’t want to forget it, so he grabs onto it and holds it close to him like a small child. “I have something I need to finish painting by tomorrow.” Jihoon lies while thinking about how many canvases he has leftover and what size they are. "So I'll stop by my studio. When you send this painting there, call me so I can open the door."

Jisoo nods. “I’ll be awaiting your good works then.” The rest of the group look at him curiously.


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm back :D 
> 
> I'm not sure I'm exactly happy with this chapter (especially the end) but it'll be explained in the next one.

The small apartment that Seungcheol, Hansol, and Jihoon share is on the fifth floor of a semi-new building, and it has three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, and a kitchen with an eating area. The three boys always thought the apartment was way too small for their exciting (or as Jihoon likes to say, noisy) lifestyle, and they never felt this as much as they do now.

Eight boys are gathered in the living room, snacks and drinks covering and falling from the coffee table, dishes of food sitting on the kitchen counters. Jihoon sits on the arm of the longer of the two gray couches, laughing as Minghao casually throws shade at Soonyoung and Seungkwan, who are definitely playing with their gummies, despite how they argue that it's a sophisticated way of eating it. Minghao is one of the original people in Seungcheol's team, and Jihoon has worked with him along with Seungcheol and Hansol for around three years before Jihoon quit. He's always known the Chinese boy to be direct, and it often leads to hilarious exchanges.

"I know this is the proper way to eat gummy bears." Seungkwan argues, "you have to eat its head first, that's what rich people do." To demonstrate, he grabs a green gummy bear and bites off the head.

"What kind of sophisticated rich person eats gummy bears?" Minghao complains, mentioning at Soonyoung to hand him gummy bears as well.

"Jisoo does."

Soonyoung butts in. "I would hardly call Jisoo sophisticated." This earns him a kick in the back from Jisoo, who was sitting on the shorter couch with Seungcheol.

"Look who's talking. Soonyoung, you're the furthest thing from classy there is." Wonwoo says as he drinks soda from a red plastic cup. "You would probably strut around in pajamas all day if there wasn't a uniform requirement for your job."

"At least he leaves his room, Jihoon would stay in bed all day if he could." Seungcheol laughs at Jihoon. "And he's definitely done it before."

Jihoon shrugs and accepts the gummy bears Minghao hands him. "If I don't have a reason to leave my room, I won't. It saves energy."

"He's a very experienced energy saver." Hansol points at Jihoon accusingly. "He doesn't even eat fucking oranges unless I peel them first." Everyone laughs.

"I don't like the feeling of orange peels under my nails!" In Jihoon's perfectly reasonable brain, why would anyone like the feeling of having… well, anything under their nails?

Seungcheol shakes his head. "That's not all. He gets annoyed when we buy any fruit seeded." Hansol nods rapidly, agreeing with Seungcheol, who ducks down to avoid the gummy bear aimed at his face.

"What's the point of eating fruit if you're spitting half of it out?" Jihoon mumbles, covering his face with his hands as Soonyoung lets out a dolphin laugh. Seungkwan slaps Soonyoung's biceps, unable to breathe from all the shaking in his chest.

The oven dings in the kitchen. Seungcheol gets up to take the chicken wings out. "Alright, let's eat a proper meal now. No more sophisticated gummy bears." Soonyoung cheers as he follows Seungcheol into the kitchen. The smell of peppers wafts through the room, and Hansol's stomach growls. Soonyoung pours out sauce into small bowls as Seungcheol carefully slides the boneless wings onto a large plate.

By the time the two make their way across the room, wars have already raged in everyone's brains, their eyes burning holes into the chicken. "It's hot," Seungcheol warns as he places the plate on the table.

Not even a second passed when a loud "me first!" slams into the room as Hansol dives forward, only to drop the chicken in pain. Seungkwan hands Hansol a plastic fork. "We may not be eating gummy bears, but that doesn't mean you can't be sophisticated." Jihoon teases as he grabs a fork for himself.

A second ding, a higher pitch, reaches everyone's ears, causing everyone to stop mid-reach. "I thought you took the chicken out already," Jisoo jokes.

Jihoon turns back to look at the front door. "That's the doorbell." Jihoon tries to stand but Seungcheol stops him.

"Don't worry, I got it." He takes large steps towards the dark wood door and unlocks it.

The person at the door stuns three people. Seungcheol's eyes widen. Jihoon almost falls off the arm of the couch. Soonyoung drops his fork into the bowl of ranch.

Jihoon's fucking tired of people surprising him.

Seungcheol manages to speak first. "You cut your hair."

"That was a while ago." A somewhat tall, slim, almost feminine man stands outside the door, wearing a light classy sweater and dress pants, starkly contrasting Seungcheol with his shorts and a pink apron. He stares at the apron warily. "You're cooking? Please try not to kill my brother."

"Jeonghan-" Jihoon starts but Soonyoung sprints to the door and grabs him by the collar.

"Why the fuck are you here?" Soonyoung yells. Jeonghan raises both of his hands, a sly smile on his face.

Seungcheol wrestles Soonyoung away. "Calm down." Soonyoung shoves Jeonghan as Jihoon follows the two to the door. He glances at Soonyoung, wondering how on earth they know each other.

"Jeonghan. I don't like to restate someone else's question so, tell me, why are you here?"

"Do I need an excuse to see my own brother?" Soonyoung blinks several times before opening his mouth in realization. Jeonghan looks around the living room, shrugging. "But I didn't know you had company over."

"Stop with this brother shit. You've been avoiding me for the past seven years. I'd like to hear a good reason why you would suddenly want to see me now." Jihoon crosses his arms and leans against the door frame.

Jeonghan smiles sheepishly. "You've gotten less naïve. Fine, I need to talk to you." He glances at a fuming Soonyoung and a still shocked Seungcheol. "Alone."

He knows it's not a good idea. "How long will this take?" Jihoon asks.

Jeonghan checks his watch. "Actually, I'm not too sure. We'll do it in my car."

"And what makes you think I want to talk to you?"

"Well, I'm here because of father." This changes Jihoon's mind. He hasn't talked to his father since he finished college, especially since they didn't part on good terms.

In fact, you could say his entire family parted on terrible, shit-like terms.

That's what family is for, right?

"Don't listen to him." Soonyoung grabs Jihoon's wrist, but Jihoon shakes his head as he pulls his arm away. "He could be dangerous. No, he is dangerous." Soonyoung eyes Jeonghan suspiciously. He's still curious as to how Soonyoung knows his brother, but Jihoon figures that now is not a good time to ask.

"You guys can start eating without me. You can start on the drinks too, since I can't drink anyway." Jihoon slips on his shoes and grabs the door handle. Soonyoung's face makes him hesitate.

"Jihoon…" He looks like a hamster.

Jihoon decides he hates hamsters now. He hates hamsters just as much as he hates this person staring at him with wide eyes.

He hates him because he makes him rethink his decision. Life decisions.

He fights the urge to pinch his cheeks. "It's okay. He's my brother." Jihoon reassures him uselessly and closes the door.

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. "So, Kwon Soonyoung, huh. You two don't seem like people who would get along." Jihoon doesn't respond as he pushes past Jeonghan and heads towards the stairs. "Not to mention you've kept contact with Seungcheol. Roommates?"

Jihoon stops suddenly, startling his brother. "Just because I'm agreeing to talk to you doesn't mean anything has changed." He turns around to see Jeonghan surprised at his outburst. "Besides, you're the reason I'm staying with Seungcheol."

"That's quite a blame you placed on me," Jeonghan says quietly.

"Why? Does that hurt?" He fought the urge to snort. "You broke him, Jeonghan. Not to mention we didn't exactly see eye to eye since…" since mother became sick. Jihoon doesn't say this out loud, but Jeonghan knows the unspoken words. They make their way down the stairs in silence. When they reach the parking lot, there is a group of girls pressed against the glass of the smoothie shop, pointing at a handsome man in a red suit, reflecting the orange glow of the sunset. He is leaning against an expensive car, checking his watch. He looks up as they approached him.

A smirk was on his face. "Wow, he's never wrong, so reliable. Looks like money has its uses after all."

Jihoon looks at the car, then at the man, then at his watch, then at the man again. This man, wearing an expensive suit, leaning against an expensive car, looking at an expensive watch, has the guts, the _audacity_, to question the usefulness of money.

"This is Jihoon, my brother," Jeonghan introduces, running his hands through his blonde hair. "As for this person, you won't need to know him. He's a friend from China." Jeonghan gestures towards the man, who waves both of his hands.

"China," Jihoon says skeptically. As far as he knows, Jeonghan has never visited China. And from how he looks at Jeonghan, they seem far more than friends.

"It's a long story, I won't bore you." Jeonghan opens the car door and motions Jihoon to get in. The man makes his way in the driver's seat, protesting, "how we met is boring to you? I'm offended!"

"What happened to talking to me alone?" Jihoon doesn't move. He's not exactly comfortable getting in a car with a stranger and a brother who's practically a stranger to him. Especially with one sitting in the driver's seat and able to drive away anytime.

"He already knows what I'm here for. And he won't participate." Jeonghan glances at the man, who gives a thumbs up. He acts like a child. "Let's start so you can return to your friends."

"And how do I know he's not going to drive away?" The man snorts and throws Jihoon the keys. He catches it awkwardly and shoves them into his shorts' pocket.

Jihoon considers just running away.

Instead, he climbs into the back seat and closes the door behind him. Jihoon's not himself if he doesn't make bad decisions.

"What did father want?" Jihoon sits as far away from his brother as possible, pressing himself to the door and his head to the glass. He crosses his arms.

Jeonghan pulls a black envelope from the passenger seat and hands it to Jihoon. The letter was thick, with gold patterns and a fancy print directed towards him. "From father. He wants to congratulate you on your success."

"He hadn't messaged me since my high school graduation. Why the sudden attention?"

"Well, your success isn't exactly a secret. It's spread around in what he would call 'high society'. In fact, many of his colleagues attended your little painting exhibit." Jihoon peels the gold wax from the envelope and pulls out a smooth black card. "He's throwing a party for you."

Jihoon shoves the paper back in and fought the urge to throw it at him. "I'm not going." He reaches for the door handle behind him, but a small click sounds as the man in the driver's seat grins in the rearview mirror. Frustrated, Jihoon chooses to stare out of the window.

"You have to go." Jeonghan leans forward. "You know you don't have a choice. Besides, aren't you curious why he suddenly decided to do something for you?"

He shakes his head. "I'm getting popular. He wants attention. It's simple."

"He doesn't want your attention. You and I both know that from experience. That's why I'm going." Jihoon looks back to study his brother's face. Jeonghan's eyes look calculating. "I'm going to find out exactly what he wants."

He doesn't want to admit it, but Jeonghan's right. His father has no problem doing twisted things in public.

Especially after the incident at the hospital.

"And if you could do a favor for me-"

Jihoon couldn't hold back his laughter. "Jeonghan, what makes you think I feel any sort of good feeling towards you to ever want to do you a favor?"

Jeonghan doesn't react at his harsh words. He's still the same Jeonghan he remembers: manipulative, calculating, and calm.

"Out of the pure goodness in your heart?" Jeonghan says sarcastically.

"What goodness?" Jihoon shoots back. "All my goodwill left when he left." He can see Jeonghan starting to get angry at his comment. "Did I strike a nerve?"

"Don't lie. You still have sympathy. Or else why would you decide to stay with Seungcheol?"

Fuck, he still can't beat his brother in an argument, it seems.

"I stayed with him because you couldn't, you piece of shit. Because you didn't fucking want to." Jihoon is very close to yelling now. "But you don't have to apologize, because he's better off without you anyway." Jeonghan flinches.

There was a moment of silence, and Jeonghan says in a quiet voice, "I want you to take him to the party."

Jihoon believes his brother is out of his damn mind. "Jeonghan. You're insane if you think I'm going to agree to this." He says slowly.

"Jihoon. I'm begging you."

_I'm begging you._

"Shut up." Jihoon covers his ears. His head is hurting again.

"I just want to make things right." His voice is quiet, soft. It reminds him of when he was a child, when he and Jeonghan and Chan would hide under the large rock in the field during the summer, catching bugs. When Jeonghan would whisper instructions as Chan giggled. "I just want to fix things. Will you let me do that, Jihoon?"

His voice was like that. Calm, not cold. Genuine, not sly. Back when everything was okay. When their mother wasn't sick.

_It's too late._

Jihoon's chest hurts, and it's difficult to breathe. The fancy letter crumples in his hands. He shoves it into his pockets in an attempt to calm himself.

_He's not here anymore. He's gone._

He feels really claustrophobic. "You're seven years too late, Jeonghan." Jihoon pries the lock open and opens the car door. "There's no way to fix what's happened." When he slams the door shut, he hears Jeonghan reply to the man in the red suit.

"He's going to do it. I know he will."

Jihoon is five steps away from the stairs when he hears a jingle in his pockets and a honk; he turns as the man in the red suit waves at him. "I'm sorry to bother you, but say hi to Haohao for me. Also, I can't take your brother out to dinner if I can't have my keys back."

His droopingly sweet tone irritates Jihoon and drives his headache away. He approaches the car, slams the keys onto the concrete, and sends one last glare towards the irritating man. He stares into his brother's eyes. "Jeonghan, I don't know what you're planning to do at that party, but know this: I'm going to make you regret every single mistake you've made towards him." He doesn't see the look on Jeonghan's face as he sprints back towards the stairs.

———

When Jihoon gets back to the apartment, he ends up at a circus. A dead one.

Seungkwan and Minghao are on the floor, asleep, clutching empty soju bottles. Vernon's face is red, his body draped across the couch's back, snoring. Soonyoung is out cold on the couch. Wonwoo is laying under the coffee table, eyes shut.

And Seungcheol and Jisoo are nowhere to be found. Jihoon doesn't even think he wants to find them.

He sighs as he slips off his shoes. Jihoon can't drink, his body always ends up turning red and uncomfortable. So whenever he's out with friends drinking, he's always the one dragging these drunk corpses home or throwing out the empty alcohol bottles.

He grabs a trash bag from the kitchen and starts picking up the bottles and wrappers. Jihoon's surprised at how quickly they got drunk, he was barely away for fifteen minutes. As he walks towards the couch, Soonyoung lets out a whine.

So he's not out cold then.

"Jihoonie-" He coughs. Jihoon rolls his eyes.

"No one calls me that, Soonyoungie." He teases as he sets the bag down to help Soonyoung sit up.

But Soonyoung slings his arms around his shoulders and leans against his neck. "Jihoonie is like a fairy." Jihoon's face heats up and he stays completely still. His brain can't focus on anything but Soonyoung's breath on his neck.

Jihoon's not sure what to do. He's never been in this situation before.

After an awkward, silent pause, Jihoon sighs, "Okay, let’s sit up and I'll continue cleaning up-"

The next thing he knows, Soonyoung's hands slide up to cup his face and he presses his lips on Jihoon's. Jihoon jumps as he pushes Soonyoung away. Soonyoung seems to deflate, falling onto the couch.

He stands there for a moment, face red, looking like an idiot, before running to his room, closing the door, and squeezing into the floor of his closet. There he hides, catching his breath.

Soonyoung tasted like alcohol.

He fucking kissed Jihoon.

Tears slide down Jihoon's face as one thought comes up. He slaps himself to get it to go away, but it doesn't work. He stays there, arms wrapped around his legs, head leaning on the wall, crying and thinking. Thinking that over and over again.

Soonyoung's drunk. Soonyoung has no idea what he's doing. Soonyoung kissed him. And yet, Jihoon liked it. He wants Soonyoung to kiss him again.

In the dark, as he falls asleep, he sees Soonyoung laying on the couch, his face peaceful. A memory resurfaces.

_You're a monster._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More of Jihoon's past revealed :D Also the arrival of Jeonghan and a not-so-mysterious man in the red suit! I don't want to leave everything so mysterious but, I promise their stories will all be revealed at the right moment. Also, the ending scene will also be explained next chapter so, bear with Jihoon being a cry baby for now :3


	3. 3 Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I was writing this and realized just how long this chapter is. Because I will be really busy next week, I decided to cut it into two parts, which means I will have a headstart on next week's update. Hopefully, that means I'll be able to post it next week.
> 
> Also, I realized that when I uploaded Chapter 2, I didn't change the chapter publication date (it ended up as August 7 instead of 15), which meant a lot of people didn't even see the new chapter :'( But I guess for you guys, that's just more content to read this week.
> 
> For now, enjoy this part!

_FOURTEEN YEARS AGO_

_It was the sound of a vase shattering that jolts Jihoon awake. He quickly shoves his half-finished art and several pencils, snapped in half, into his desk drawer. Unintelligible screaming from outside the room follow, a man's deep voice shouting as a woman yelled in response. _

_"I guess father's home," Jihoon mumbles to himself, wiping the gray eraser remains off his white wooden desk._

_It's like that whenever his father comes home from the hospital, and the fighting happens more and more often. Jihoon usually hides in his room when it happens, drawing pictures knowing his mother wouldn't enter the room when she's at his father's throat._

_He hears a soft knock from the hallway, as Jeonghan comes in, a crying Chan clinging to his arm. _

_"Chan, stop crying," Jihoon says bluntly. This only makes him cry harder. His face is red, and the tears stream down his face, staining his light blue shirt. "You're eight years old now. You've been eight years old for six months."_

_"Jihoon!" Jeonghan scolds lightly. The oldest brother wipes the tears from the youngest's cheeks. "It's okay, Chan. You want to go catch some bugs?"_

_At the mention of bugs, Chan seems to calm down instantly. It's one of his favorite activities, despite his age being well over what normal people consider bug-catching age to be. "Can we?"_

_Jeonghan looks at Jihoon, who shrugs. "Why not." Jeonghan nods. Jihoon runs to his bed and grabs two small jars from underneath, handing them to Chan. "Hold on to them tightly, we're going to need them later." _

_Chan nods furiously, hugging the glass to his chest. _

_Another yell. "Alright, now, follow me." Jeonghan takes the lead as the three children carefully creep down the upstairs hallway, the walls littered with picture frames, down the stairs on the side of the manor, and into the back of the kitchen. The air is warm, drifting slowly around the large, red brick kitchen, carrying the smell of baked bread and roasted meat, almost resembling a historical kitchen found in the United States._

_There are usually a few maids in the stairways and the kitchen, but all of them are outside right now, shaking their heads as they gossiped. So the boys' quest stands undisturbed, for now._

_Silence now. They are slipping on their shoes when the father appears in the kitchen, right hand covering his face. His white coat pulled taut against his shoulders, the shirt underneath barely covering his built frame. Their father's face was slightly red, his blueish eye bags being the only indication of his fatigue. He notices them quickly, since Chan is easily not the quietest of children._

_"What are you guys up to?" Jeonghan freezes up, not even turning to face him._

_"We're going to catch bugs!" Chan laughs, holding the jars up for their father to see. The clean little jars sparkled in the bright light that streamed through the kitchen windows. At the sight of the jars, the father smiles warily._

_Jihoon finishes tying his tennis shoes. "Alright, don't get too dirty, be back before dinner-" Their father pauses when Jihoon turns around and looks up at him. _

_He's furious now. "That woman." He growls under his breath. As their father turns, Jeonghan grabs Chan and Jihoon by the wrists and drags them out of the manor through the back door._

_Before the door shuts completely, another deep yell reaches the young boys' ears._

_The boys run across the field, the yellowing grass reaching their knees. Their estate is golden around the middle of fall, the large willows catch the cool wind, branches bending almost as if it is bearing some huge weight. There is a large boulder, flat at the top, taller than Jeonghan by several inches, sitting in the middle of the field. Underneath it, no grass grew, and the dirt was moist. Moss hugged the underside of the rocks, giving it the appearance of clothing. This was the boys’ favorite place in the entire estate: no tutors, no maids, no adults._

_And plenty, plenty of bugs._

_Here, they can be whoever they want. They can escape their problems. They can play like there’s no tomorrow._

_As Chan digs in the ground for worms and other shelled bugs, Jihoon stands on top of the rock, looking away from the manor. The large field extends downwards, and at the end, tall reeds hiding a running stream. The wind blows his black hair sideways, and Jihoon squints his eyes as it travels between his glasses and his face. Jihoon loves the estate, and the field most of all. To this ten-year-old boy, it was the most beautiful place in the world, though his opinion should be taken with a grain of salt since he’s never left the estate. He never had a reason to leave: his father is away weeks at a time at his hospital several hours away from here, and drivers deliver food and goods to the home. The maids clean and prepare food, and tutors taught the boys all the information they needed._

_There was only one thing missing to Jihoon. Okay, maybe two. _

_Paint. Every single time he visits the rock, he tries to ingrain the image to his memory. He’s drawn the view several times, in pencil, but it’s black and white. Black and white and _boring. _But he knows better than to ask his mother for paint. _

_And the other wish? A friend. _

_He’s never seen another child that’s not his family. Or anyone that’s the same age as him._

_He wants a friend, someone who’s funny, who can make remarks Jihoon will laugh at. His friend will have a large smile. The stars reflecting in his eyes, wide and bright. Like the stars Jihoon sneaks out of the manor to see, blinking, shining. The stars that Jihoon wouldn’t mind getting in trouble for. The stars Jihoon longs to paint. If he could ask for anything in the world right now, he would tell God or the genie this. _

_And of course, he must like Jihoon’s drawings, that’s a given. Who doesn’t like his drawings?_

_But those wishful thoughts aren't in the young boy's mind today._

_Jeonghan jumps onto the rock, sitting down beside Jihoon’s legs, his long black hair swaying in the wind, tangling in front of his face. He brushes his hair back with his hands, securing it with a rubber band. “Something’s on your mind, isn’t it?” Jeonghan has always been very sensitive to his siblings’ thoughts and feelings, and because of this, his brothers confide in him often, even if they don't want to._

_“There’s always something on my mind when I look at the stream. Like how the little peeks of blue shine like gems between the grass. The grass bends at a different angle every time I’m here.” He says wistfully. “And the orange shades in the sunset is always so vibrant at this time. It doesn't matter how many times I see it, I always want to paint it.”_

_“And a friend?” Jeonghan guesses, since that’s what Jihoon usually tells him about after describing their backyard. Jihoon nods, leaning down to sit beside his brother. Chan doesn’t want to miss out on all the action, so he joins his brothers, sitting on the other side of Jeonghan, examining the pill bugs in his jar. He’d poke them and laugh when they curl up._

_“Remember to set them free when we leave.” Jihoon reminds his brother. _

_"I know, you tell me that every time." Chan whines, setting the jars down. That takes some of the fun out of it, but even a child as young as Chan can realize when conversations get serious._

_"Isn't there something else on your mind." Jeonghan doesn't even bother to ask. Jihoon looks right to see Jeonghan's eyes probing, genuinely curious, ready to relieve Jihoon of whatever is troubling to the ten-year-old._

_"No, it's just…" Jihoon hesitates, fiddling with his hands. He droops his head, afraid to see the expression on his older brother's face. "Do you… think that father and mother argue because of me?"_

_Jeonghan grabs Jihoon's chin, forcing him to look up. He examines Jihoon's contorted face, surprised and wide-eyed behind his glasses. Jihoon doesn’t see Chan blinking rapidly, trying to make sense of his question, but Chan's head is turning, thinking of the best response. Or, as best as an eight-year-old bug enthusiast can provide. "Jihoon always reminds me to let the bugs free. You're always so caring and kind, even the bugs think so, don't you guys?" Chan lifts the jar beside Jeonghan's face. "See, they agree." He points at the pill bugs curling up into a ball. "There's no way you're the reason they argue. You would never hurt anyone, not even a little bug."_

_"That's too generous of you," Jihoon mumbles the best he can while Jeonghan smiles, squeezing his cheeks._

_"No, I don't think so either." Jeonghan stops tormenting Jihoon; instead, he reaches around Chan's shoulder to ruffle the youngest's spiky black hair. "None of this is your fault." He reassures, looping his other arm around Jihoon's shoulders and pulling his brothers tight against his sides. _

_The sun is cut in half by the horizon, spilling orange light like a yolk in a pan. It is as if the entire field is bouncing to a rhythm: the wind blowing softly, the grass swaying, all to a musical score that the sun conducts. It can't be ignored, not even by three boys who have seen nothing in this world. The two brothers pressed against Jeonghan's chest can hear his heartbeat, beating to the rhythm of the sun, their lives entwined together into a piece only God knows how to read and play. The boys can feel this rhythm in their bodies, and so they swing their legs, joining in. _

_"And do you know how I know?" Jeonghan pats his chest. "In here. My heart knows."_

_"It's not good to think with your heart," Jihoon quotes one of their tutors, smiling. _

_"Oh! I know how it goes!" It's a well-known response for them, although they would never say it to their tutor. Chan waves his hand. "You don't need to think with your heart."_

_"You feel it in every fiber of your being," Jihoon adds. Jeonghan nods, finishing. _

_"And you know you're right."_

———

Jihoon's room is, quite simply, a mess. Standing at the door, Seungcheol sighs softly. To his right is Jihoon's book bed, pressed up against the wall. The bed is not made, as usual, with several blankets just piled up on the sheets. At the foot of the bed stands a door leading to his bathroom. Beside that door, a similar door leading to his closet. There's clothes, books, and even more blankets scattered on the floor, and opposite to the door, an opaque blue curtain hid a bay window, making the room very dark. Jihoon's room has its own air conditioning unit, and it’s set so low it makes Seungcheol shiver when he first opens the door from the living room. Seungcheol's pretty sure when Jihoon's blankets fall on the floor, he just grabs another one from his closet. The perks of being rich, he supposes, although he knows Jihoon stopped talking to his father years ago.

This is the mess he fights his way through, plowing a space between all of Jihoon's belongings. When he reaches the window, he pulls the curtains apart. He stands there for a moment, blinded by the sunlight, and watches as the light rushed into the room, bringing color to the dark interior. The sun shines outside, bringing a new day, and some chattering drifts up from the street. The large pillows sit comfortably on the bay seat, facing back at Seungcheol.

This worries him a bit. When Jihoon isn't sitting in the bay window with the curtains drawn…

He makes his way to the closet, tripping several times over the books in messy stacks by the door. When he opens it, he finds Jihoon, pressed up in the corner, asleep.

Irritated, Seungcheol doesn't hesitate to march over to Jihoon and slap him on the face.

"Fucking hell, Seungcheol, you scared me to death!" Jihoon clutches his cheek; a glared settles onto his face. Usually, Jihoon is dazed when he wakes up, but Seungcheol is quite experienced in the art of making him wake up as quickly as possible, even if it means risking his life sometimes.

"You know this is the only way to wake you up quickly." Seungcheol states, shrugging.

There's only one proper response to this. "I hate you."

"I already know that. Now," Seungcheol slides down to sit by Jihoon, "mind telling me what happened last night?"

Besides Jeonghan, who can read his brothers' thoughts like he has telepathic powers, Seungcheol is also very used to Jihoon's habits, especially from living with him through college. So when Jihoon mutters, "nothing happened", Seungcheol immediately knows he's lying. And Jihoon sees it on his face, a scowl telling Jihoon he isn't taking any bullshit excuse. He knows him all too well.

"Jihoon, who usually cleans the living room after every single party in which I get drunk-"

"Drunk off your ass." He interjects. He feels the need to put Seungcheol in his place sometimes.

"Leaving the living room messy and hiding in his closet. A prime example of an upset Jihoon." Sometimes, Jihoon forgets that Seungcheol is a policeman as well.

Usually because Seungcheol is dumb.

"Okay, fine. I was shocked that Jeonghan showed up." Jihoon concedes. He plays with the clothes hanging above his head.

Seungcheol pulls a blanket from outside the closet, covering himself. "That's not it, is it?" Now Jihoon's rolling his eyes. He looks at Seungcheol, who is grinning from ear to ear.

"Why would you hire Soonyoung if you're so good at figuring out stuff by yourself?"

"Oh, so it's about Soonyoung then?"

His face contorts, so Jihoon slaps himself on the face. "No." He shakes his head, but Seungcheol has already figured it out.

Sometimes, Jihoon forgets Seungcheol is in charge of interrogation too.

"I hate you." He repeats. "When I came home yesterday, I found you guys drunk. Like, really drunk. Out cold drunk." He narrates, picking the lint off his hoodie. "Well, except you and Jisoo, who I didn't really want to look for, in case I have to bleach my eyes." Seungcheol pinches Jihoon on the arm. "Ow! So yeah, I found the others drunk and laying on the couches…" Jihoon drifts off as a thought reaches his head.

Soonyoung was drunk.

"And?"

"It doesn't really matter, Soonyoung won't even remember anyway." Jihoon feels a little better now. At least Soonyoung won't remember how he made a fool of himself.

Seungcheol deadpans. "Jihoon, has no one told you about Soonyoung?”

“About Soonyoung? What is there to know about him?”

Seungcheol’s face changes from disbelief to surprise. “Jihoon, Soonyoung’s a well-known detective in all police forces in Korea.” Seungcheol waves his arms around to emphasize how large Korea is, which isn’t too large considering other countries, but definitely large enough to make Jihoon interested.

“Him? Soonyoung? Seriously?” Jihoon doesn’t believe it. Come on, it’s Soonyoung they’re talking about.

Soonyoung, who was drunk and basically dead yesterday night. The Soonyoung who kissed him. The Soonyoung that found him in the performance hall. Soonyoung, who was playing the piano, who immediately knew Jihoon was crying. _Soonyoung_. Heat creeps up his face, and his ears are burning.

Gosh, Jihoon does not regret being kissed by him. But he regrets having this tight feeling in his chest, like some cat ramming against the walls of a cage. He feels like a dumbass. Soonyoung doesn’t like him, he was just comforting someone who was crying, as he would to everyone, because he's nice. Soonyoung, who only kissed him because he was drunk and had no idea what was happening. And Jihoon feels so silly thinking maybe, just maybe, he meant something by it. Soonyoung, who makes his life just a bit shinier, brighter.

Interjection. Seungcheol is beyond belief. “Jihoon, he’s so famous. Do you know photographic memory? When someone can remember in 2D just by looking at something once?” Jihoon’s very nervous now. “Well, he’s even better than that. He can remember things in 3D, no, 4D. Just by looking at a room, he can remember words on a page, how far objects are from each other, how long someone takes to cross a room, details like that, sharp and clear. And he remembers it all. Korea is really damn lucky he’s a detective; if he decided to be a villain instead, then Korea is doomed.”

Moment of silence.

“Seungcheol. I’m fucked.”

That’s it. Jihoon’s jumping out of his window as soon as possible.

He should write Soonyoung’s name as his murderer. And leave everything he owns to Minghao, because out of all of the policemen, only he has common sense.

Another moment of silence. Just when Jihoon starts to think that Seungcheol is respecting the last moments of his life, he starts speaking. “What do you mean, you’re fucked?” Seungcheol’s grinning slyly.

Jihoon’s the one deadpanning now. “You absolute dick. I can’t believe you just made me believe you.” He really just needs to kill Seungcheol, as soon as humanly possible.

“Oh no, I was telling the truth. Except Soonyoung never remembers anything when he’s drunk, which is why he hates drinking so much.” Seungcheol try to wrap an arm around Jihoon, who pushes it away angrily. “So I did find it strange he drank so much yesterday.”

“I seriously don’t know why I’m friends with you.”

“Because I’m cute and lovable?”

“The only person who thinks you’re cute and lovable is Jisoo, and that's because he has you wrapped around his finger.” Jihoon sighs and pouts. “Fine. I was trying to clean up after you guys yesterday, and…” Seungcheol leans in. “I was trying to help Soonyoung sit up. And… Soonyoung kissed me.” He says really quickly, hiding his face in his hands.

Seungcheol starts laughing. “H-hey, it’s not funny!” Jihoon protests, whacking Seungcheol on the head several times.

“That’s what you were worried about?”

“N-no, you don’t understand.” Jihoon sputters. “I may or may not like him. Just a little bit.” Except Seungcheol already knows that, especially since he found Jihoon's sketchbook a couple of days ago. And Seungcheol's never letting Jihoon get over it.

Lately, He's done a lot of sketching. He hasn't sketched in a long time, ever since he could use paint in college. Jihoon never got over the vibrant colors and unique texture, which he'd been missing out on for eighteen years. But it started two weeks ago, ever since he met Soonyoung. He's filled a sketchbook already, endlessly drawing during the nights he doesn't sleep. In the beginning, he couldn't understand why he was so obsessed with drawing Soonyoung.

Then he noticed that all his sketches were smiling. He can't even bring himself to draw Soonyoung in a sad or pained expression.

It's not that he doesn't want Soonyoung to smile; it's just that, he's never seen Soonyoung have any emotion besides happiness and humorous, and someone can't be happy all the damn time, right?

Or maybe Jihoon's just been sad for too long.

But Seungcheol isn't finished with his interrogation yet. “So you liked it?” Seungcheol teases and is met with a hoodie sleeve to his face.

“He’s going to find out, and he’s going to hate me. He’s going to hate me because I didn’t stop him.”

“Nothing’s going to make Soonyoung hate you.” Seungcheol stands up, extending a hand to Jihoon. “He’s too forgiving. But don’t worry, he won’t remember a thing. Come on, let’s go eat breakfast.”

Jihoon accepts his hand, letting his friend pull him up. “You go ahead, I’m going to wash up.”

Seungcheol takes one step out of the closet and trips. He forgot about all the blankets on the floor. “Jihoon, how do you even live in this room?”

“It’s a superpower you gain when you become one with the blankets. Now get out.” He pushes Seungcheol lightly, who raises both of his hands in defeat.

Jihoon trudges into his bathroom, rubbing his eyes. The sight in the bathroom mirror is like looking into an alternate universe, in which Jihoon probably never sleeps and lives on coffee.

Wait, that sounds awfully close to this one. Except Jihoon doesn't drink coffee, instead he fuels himself with tea.

His eyes are slightly swollen, and his glasses are dirty. He takes them off, rubbing them against his blue hoodie.

It wasn’t like Jihoon lied to Seungcheol, but he didn’t tell him the whole truth. His dream, or more accurately, his memory, was too nostalgic. It made Jihoon’s nose runny and caused his heart to beat heavily and painfully. 

He didn’t have a perfect childhood. That’s an understatement. But he misses it.

He misses Jeonghan and Chan. Well, the Jeonghan before everything went downhill.

Jihoon splashes water on his face, frowning deeply. He rarely ever gets these dreams now, mostly due to the fact that he pushes them out of his mind by painting. Sometimes, when he's really scared of them, he reads the art magazines or the books in his room instead of sleeping.

He brushes his teeth violently, wincing when the bubbles he spits out are red. After looking in the mirror one more time and deciding his appearance is unfixable, he puts the hood over his head and heads out of his room.

Memories can wait until later. When he's brave enough to face them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I know it's progressing really slow (especially since the summary talks about his painting being stolen, but the gallery hasn't even opened yet, haha), but I wanted this to be as much as a mental growth story as a mystery/thriller. According to my plan, we won't even reach the "actual plot" until a couple of chapters from now, but I think you guys will enjoy the mystery and suspense I hope I will create by solidifying the characters more. Also, this means you guys have more chances to figure things out! But just know, I always have more up my sleeves ;)
> 
> What do you guys think about this "genius" Soonyoung by the way? (Since he's actually dumb in real life, but we love him for it :P)
> 
> As usual, leave a kudos or a comment if you liked something. Any discussion in the comments about this chapter is welcome as well!


	4. 3 Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I've finished the second part of chapter 3. Just one more chapter until the story "actually" starts :( I'm sorry for how slow this story is. I've considered making this all a prologue, but there was so much to establish and expand on that I just couldn't bring myself to do it.
> 
> Anyway, this chapter is mostly dialogue, setting up for the next chapter. I hope this chapter doesn't leave you guys too confused (or curious) than you already are! *evil laugh*

When he emerged into the living room, his friends were the complete opposite of last night. Wonwoo and Soonyoung occupied two of the three kitchen counter chairs, with Soonyoung slumped over in the middle, clutching a mug. Wonwoo is frowning at the morning newspaper. Jisoo places a plate of eggs and pancakes in front of him when Jihoon takes a seat beside Soonyoung, meticulously calculating about three inches of space next to him. Minghao is groaning behind him, sitting lazily at the dining table.

Seungcheol comes up behind Jihoon, handing him syrup which he pours on his pancakes. Jihoon laughs, enjoying the finally more quiet early morning. He's guessing Seungkwan and Hansol are still asleep, which is perfectly fine to him. "If breakfast is this quiet, you guys should drink every night."

To which Jisoo shakes his head, sliding him a glass of orange juice. "Don’t give them any ideas."

Jihoon eyes the juice suspiciously. He looks over at Soonyoung, who's head was laying on his left arm, his other hand holding a mug with steam rising out of it. He looks back at Minghao, a mug sitting in front of his folded hands. Then he looks over Soonyoung, at Wonwoo, another steaming mug standing beside the newspaper he's analyzing.

"Jisoo, are we out of tea?" He nods. "Permission to kill Seungcheol."

"Permission granted," Jisoo replies, smiling.

Seungcheol shoots up, holding his hands out in front of him. "Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. I didn't even drink any of your tea!" He rushes behind Minghao, who is giggling at the situation. "Jisoo, aren't you suppose to defend me? And don't you want me alive?" He pouts.

Jisoo's face is still smiling, but it's somehow colder than before. "Not after what happened last night."

The room is silent now, as Minghao and Seungcheol are both frowning confused. Wonwoo puts his newspaper down casually as if he wasn't paying attention to the conversation around him at all. Jihoon looks away, carefully shoving a piece of pancake in his mouth.

Soonyoung, probably noticing the room's mood has taken a reverse card, raises his head. "So that's why you were mad last night."

Mad? Jisoo was mad? Jihoon didn't notice at all. Then again, he wasn't there for the rest of the party. He examines Jisoo's steel-set face now.

"Wait, why are you mad?" Minghao asks tentatively. "Is it because, uh, you guys were…" he trailed off.

No reaction as Jisoo clears his throat. "So, Jihoon, who was the person at the door yesterday?"

"Jeonghan? That's my brother." He answers with pancake in his mouth.

"Seungcheol, go on and tell Jisoo why you reacted weirdly to Jeonghan's appearance," Soonyoung advises, lifting his mug to his mouth. Seungcheol takes this advice gratefully.

"I haven't seen Jeonghan since he broke up with me about eight years ago. That's why I was surprised." Seungcheol answers tentatively.

Jisoo scoffs. "Surprised? You seem to know him well enough to notice he got a haircut!"

Oh. Jihoon realizes what's happening now. He swallows and opens his mouth, but Soonyoung beats him to it. "Jisoo, Jeonghan used to have long hair, that's why Seungcheol noticed it easily."

The room is dead silent. Everyone's staring at Soonyoung now, except Wonwoo, who looks like he's about to roll up the newspaper and smack Soonyoung on the head.

"Wait, how do you know what my brother looked like?" Soonyoung looks at Jihoon, surprised, then he widened his eyes and stares down at his cup.

"Uh," he doesn't look up, his tone flat, "he had a past run-in with the law when I worked in another city. Nothing serious." Jihoon fights the urge to facepalm. According to Soonyoung, his brother had gotten in trouble with the police, and that's not something serious? He looks up, his face emotionless. "Anyways, why was he here?"

Jisoo, who was slightly embarrassed by his mistake, helps him change the subject. "What did your brother want to talk about?"

Jihoon decides to not press further, instead conceding to his question. "He was here to give me an invitation." He remembers the letter and pulls the crumbled mess from his pockets. "Uh, yeah, this is for you," he lies, handing the letter to Jisoo. "My father's throwing a party for my 'success', as Jeonghan said. I don't really need one, since I don't need an invitation to my own father's parties."

Jisoo opens the envelope, reading the print. "Thank you, I think I'll accept your father's invitation." Jihoon looks down, not wanting to tell Jisoo that he wasn't really invited, but since he's the gallery owner, his father can't exactly deny his entrance. Or so Jihoon hopes. "So, it says here that the ticket is for two people. Who will you go with then?"

Jihoon freezes mid-bite, blinking wildly. He didn't notice that line at all. Probably because he didn't actually read the letter.

And obviously he can't rely on Seungcheol now, since he already invited Jisoo. And Jisoo knows that, which is why he asked the question.

"Uh," Jihoon mumbles. "I haven't exactly… thought about it yet."

Seungcheol runs up to Jihoon, slinging an arm around his shoulder and grinning wide. "You should go with someone, it's going to be more awkward if you go alone, since you'll be the only one answering questions." He scans the room, his eyes "coincidentally" landing on Soonyoung. "You could go with Soonyoung. He's been to plenty of formal social gatherings, and he's practiced enough to make something up on the spot. Plus he's well known."

Jihoon's face heats up, so he turns away from the mentioned boy, instead, he sends a scowl at Seungcheol's face. "To be honest, I don't even think I want to go," he remarks as Soonyoung shakes his head and declines with a "no thanks".

A ball of napkin hits Soonyoung on the back of his head. "That's rude!" Minghao exclaims.

"No, I don't mean it's because of Jihoon," Soonyoung explains, "I just don't really want to meet the media." He signs, staring at his tea still. Although Jihoon didn't know much about Soonyoung, he's sure a famous detective, not to say good looking, would certainly attract the cameras. And he wants to smack himself in the head for thinking Soonyoung was good looking.

"It's okay, I don't think I'm going to go anyways." Jihoon shrugs, sliding the empty plate away from him.

Minghao gives him a look. "How can you not go to a party thrown for you?"

"Aren't you curious why Jeonghan is back and running errands for your father again?" Seungcheol asks. Glancing at Jisoo, he adds uselessly, "not that I'm curious or anything."

Jihoon has thought about that last night, but his feeble brain wasn't able to come up with a plausible answer. So he slumps over, "It's Jeonghan. He hasn't changed. Except he's richer and has a new boyfriend." This reminds him of the grinning man from yesterday and his parting words. "Actually, his boyfriend told me to say hi to Haohao, which," he turns to look back at Minghao, "is you, right?"

Minghao pales. "What did you say?"

"Jeonghan's boyfriend. I did hear from my brother that they met in China." Jihoon doesn't notice the expression on Minghao's face, staring down at his shoes. "I was wondering how he knew you were here, but he said something about 'he's never wrong' and 'money has it's uses'. I never did find out his name though." Soonyoung frowns, glaring at his tea, as if remembering something. Minghao is visibly shocked, his mouth hanging open.

Wonwoo glances at his frowning friend, blinking innocently. "Minghao, do you know who Jihoon is talking about?"

Minghao manages to close his mouth. His answer is quiet. "He's… someone I grew up with in China. His name is Jun."

"It's a small world, huh." Wonwoo pries Soonyoung's tight hands from the mug.

Soonyoung explodes, groaning. "I don't get it!" He swings his arm, but Wonwoo had already saved the mug and is now waving it in front of Soonyoung's face. "It doesn't fucking add up. I thought I ended it." He mumbles, running a hand through his hair. Then, suddenly making a decision, he points to Jihoon. "You're going to the party with me. There's something I need to confirm."

Seungcheol giggles, "how bold."

Jihoon whips his head around, "it's not your choice?" But Soonyoung wasn't even listening, rubbing his temples.

Minghao stands up suddenly, slamming his hands on the table. "I'm sorry, I need a moment." The others watched him shuffle outside, closing the door slowly behind him. Except Soonyoung, who is trying hard not to slam his head into the table.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom." He says quickly and runs off into the bathroom down the hallway, leaving a confused Seungcheol, concerned Jisoo, firm-set expression Wonwoo, and a thinking Jihoon.

Who knew Jeonghan coming back would have this much of an impact, and on this many people? Jihoon looks around, nervous. Everything seems to be spiraling out of control, spinning and blurring together like the sunsets Jihoon tries so hard to paint. Colors, secret, pasts that he can't seem to control, can't seem to grasp, and it makes him feel small.

It's then that he realizes he doesn't know much about Minghao's past in China, or Soonyoung before he moved to this city, or the reason why Wonwoo seems to know everything that's happening. In fact, he knows so little of his friends, which makes him reflect on how little the others know about his past as well.

He wants to know why Soonyoung is avoiding the media, and exactly what happened between him and his brother. Why Minghao seems visibly distraught at this Jun's arrival.

And why Jeonghan decided to come back, and how he's working with his father, whom he fought with for several years?

A deeper part of him wonders, are these secrets, like his own, better if left to rot in the shadows?

So when Wonwoo turns towards Jihoon, repeating the same question that Hansol had asked him just two short weeks ago, "Are you going to do it?", Jihoon is certain.

"Yes."

He's not going to sit here and be left wondering what's happening. He's going to try to figure it all out.

Maybe this isn't a good decision, but Jihoon's taking action for once, so cut him some slack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is also going to be really, really long, so I may split that one into two parts too. But there won't be an update next week because I am going to a retreat, which is going to take a lot of time away from writing :( But I promise it'll be pretty long.
> 
> Starting next chapter, there will be some part that won't be Jihoon's point of view, and because of this, the style of writing, I noticed, is also going to be a bit different. I hope you guys are just as curious about Jihoon's past as Soonyoung's, because I can tell you already, Soonyoung's is going to be just as deep and confusing ;)


	5. 4 Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm back, and I realized I wrote another super long chapter :) Which is why it's split into two again. And no, this isn't a plot to drag out my updates, I just haven't finished the second part :'( To apologize, I'll update this early >.<. I'm sorry, but I hope you'll enjoy this update nonetheless.

_THREE YEARS AGO_

_A fall, a scrape, and a thump lead to Soonyoung laying flat on his back on the ice, his chest moving up and down quickly as he squints into the bright overhead lights. His skin burns where it meets the ice, his nose is red from the cold. He lays there for a minute, covering his eyes with his left arm, catching his breath._

_He can't figure it out, and it's tearing him apart. _

_He sits up, the gray shirt, wet with the melting ice and sweat, clings to his back. He shakes his head violently, the water droplets raining down from his silver hair. A door opens loudly, but Soonyoung pays no attention to it. He gets up and takes off, skating forward. Soonyoung bends his left leg, swings the right around, and propels himself into the air, spinning._

_Why would he confess to it?_

_This complicated question alone distracts Soonyoung, and he doesn't complete the extra half rotation; he lands weirdly on his right foot and trips, his hips colliding with the ground and his right arm scraping against the ice. Soonyoung hisses as he sits up, examining his arm._

_"Productive self-harm again?" A voice echoes in the large rink, as Soonyoung looks up to see Seokmin standing at the edge of the ice, his right hand propped up against the door._

_He stands and dusts the ice from his bare legs and his elbows. His skin is tinged with blue from the cold, and the red cuts contrast sharply with it. He skates over to Seokmin, laughing, who wraps his arms around Soonyoung's waist and picks him up from the ice, turning around to place him on a bench, despite the other's protest._

_Soonyoung groans. "My ass hurts."_

_"Who's damn fault is that, you masochist." Seokmin examines Soonyoung's arms. "I don't understand why you would skate just to fall." His hands were hot against Soonyoung's forearms, a testament to how long the latter had been on the ice._

_"It helps me think."_

_"No," Seokmin takes off the jacket he's wearing, wrapping the black coat around Soonyoung. "It helps you beat yourself up when you can't think." He smiles, accepting the coat gratefully. Seokmin signs deeply when he sits down next to Soonyoung, rubbing his hands against each other. "So, what are you investigating that's frustrating you so much?"_

_At the mention of the case, Soonyoung's face falls. "It's just a drug trafficking case. It's not like we don't have any suspects." He leans back against the wall. "The criminal admitted to the crime, but," he squeezes his eyes, "something just doesn't add up. His name is on the contract of the shed, but besides that, nothing points to him being the culprit at all." He thinks of the man, hair graying and eyes crinkling, no trace of drug use or any other illegal activity in the past. Soonyoung finds it hard to believe he is the one behind one of the largest possession of drugs in the history of the city._

_Seokmin is quiet, so Soonyoung doesn't know what else to say. And so they sit there, staring at the empty rink. Soonyoung has been friends with the owner of the skating rink for a long time, ever since he started figure skating in elementary school. Because of this, he sometimes stays later after the rink has closed to skate on his own._

_He had quit when he started attending college. Now he only skates when he's extremely angry with himself._

_Soonyoung shuffles over and leans his head on the other's shoulder. Seokmin seems to sense the question before he even asks it, answering calmly, "I'm just tired. Work's been busy."_

_It's kind of hard to believe Seokmin when Soonyoung doesn't know what Seokmin's job is, especially since he's never told Soonyoung in the past two years they've been dating. All he heard was that it was a boring office job that Seokmin can't wait to get away from._

_"Your parents still mad at you? You're pretty famous now." Soonyoung winces at the question._

_"They still haven't gotten over their genius son who dropped out of college and can't become a clinical therapist," he laughs emotionlessly. _

_Seokmin looks up at the lights hanging from the ceiling and mumbles, "parents are complex, huh."_

_"Yeah." But something's nettling Soonyoung now. It's floating around his head, and when he finally grasps it, he sits up, startling his boyfriend. "Oh my god, it makes sense now." He bends down to untie his skates, his slightly numb hands working as quick as possible._

_"What?"_

_"He's not guilty. He didn't buy the shed." Soonyoung pulls the skates off and slips on his shoes. "I'll return your jacket later." He sprints to the doors leading out of the rink. "Tell Kibum Hyung I owe him one." His head is spinning now, regathering the evidence he can see so clearly in the police files and piecing together new information. _

_He's figured it out now._

———

If Soonyoung could go back in time, he would go back to the day three years ago, when he talked to Seokmin in the skating rink.

Then maybe Seokmin would still be here.

But now he can only stand in front of the mirror and contemplate his next move. His red hair is combed, the suit he has on sat neatly on his skin, red tie jammed against his neck, a faint smile sits on his lips, but he's staring at his hands, and they are shaking, and he can't get them to stop. He places them on the sink, leaning forward, willing them to stay still.

He'll find out today if he needs to reopen his case from three years ago. The one he thought he ended.

The one that ended the Soonyoung that understood what emotions are, the Soonyoung that was happy with his life, his job, and the people around him. The Soonyoung that was all too naïve and trusting. Quite simply, the case three years ago ended him.

A soft knock on the door of the bathroom jars him to attention. At the door was Jihoon, looking uncomfortable in a tailored suit, his hair neat and missing its usual black cap, his round glasses sitting on a sweating and red face. In his hands is a tie, loose and dangling. "Can you help me wear this?"

Soonyoung smiles wider at an embarrassed Jihoon. "You've never worn a tie before?"

"That's not it!" Jihoon protests, throwing the tie to Soonyoung, "I've just… always had someone else put it on me." Ah, the wonders of having a rich background, Soonyoung thinks, motioning Jihoon to come closer. He lifts the collar and wraps the tie around. Thinking back to an etiquette class he refused to take but took anyways in high school, he knots the tie quickly, patting the collars back into place.

He's so close to Jihoon that he senses the spell of oxytocin and a faint rush of adrenaline from under his ribcage, and he remembers the effects so well. It's almost identical four years ago, when a usually quiet Soonyoung felt his heart race for the first time. But this time, it's so, so much stronger. When his heart starts beating unusually faster and louder, when the blood rushes through his veins and pounds, when he feels the emotion regular people would call love.

It was ironic, really, that Soonyoung, a brilliant student of psychology, the top of every test ranking, who was recognized for all his academic achievements, who could define emotions using biology and chemistry off the top of his head, couldn't feel the simple effects of dopamine, the feeling of satisfaction and completeness. And here, standing in front of him, is the euphoric rush people throw their lives away for, when Soonyoung rarely but distinctly become what his psychology teacher called "meat and bones craving after dopamine".

Well, his definitions of emotions are really scientific, he guesses. He grins at Jihoon, who carefully adjusts the knot and slides it into his jacket. "I did want to ask you, why did you decide to go with me?" Jihoon looks up, locking his eyes with the slightly taller boy's.

Why indeed. But Soonyoung can't tell him that his brother was involved in the drug trafficking case three years ago, that Soonyoung didn't completely solve the case because Seokmin died, that he was the one that killed him.

He can still hear the gunshot, and it rings in his head.

So he settles for a simple answer. "Because I wanted to go with you. Also, because it didn't make sense to me that you would sit out on your own party." He's not exactly lying, and he makes sure he looks the part. He keeps his position still, blinking normally while cocking his head.

But it doesn't work; Jihoon is a bit more perceptive than he expected. "No other reason?"

Soonyoung is saved by Jisoo, who pops into the doorway wearing a navy suit and striped blue tie, glancing at the two standing in the small bathroom. "The driver's here."

"Ah, thank you." Jihoon's lips form a really flat smile. "Let's get going then."

He can't tell Jihoon that he's there to confirm his suspicions.

Because if he knew, the events three years ago may repeat again, especially since Jeonghan is back, but this time, Soonyoung isn't sure he's together enough to live through it.

———

Jihoon has prepped himself for the last week, memorizing simple answers to obvious questions and facial expressions for every occasion, maybe preparing way too much, but as the car stops in front of a high rise banquet building, in front of a thick carpet lined with reporters and cameras, Jihoon is reminded of his father's society, drastically different from his own. And there are definitely butterflies in his stomach.

He's a bit scared, to say the least. Jihoon's not used to the large media and attention the people of "high society" experience every day. In fact, that's one of the lesser reasons why he stopped contacting his very-present-in-community father. That, and the fact that Jihoon still hasn't gotten over the past yet. He doesn't want to step out of the car, so he nervously mutters, "I thought you wanted to avoid the media."

Soonyoung, sitting more calmly, is smirking at the scene outside the building. "I don't think the media is ready for me yet." His hand reaches the handle of the car, and Jihoon is regretting his life decisions now. "You ready?" Soonyoung looks back, his steady eyes meeting shaking ones. Jihoon tries to still himself as Soonyoung opens the door and steps onto the carpet.

Immediately the atmosphere bursts to life outside. "It's Kwon Soonyoung!" He can hear the confused but excited exclamations, cameras pointing to the formerly missing detective, now showing up at a seemingly unrelated event. Soonyoung reaches a hand into the car, and Jihoon gratefully accepts as he summons all of his meager courage.

The reaction is slower but louder as Jihoon steps out of the car and is met with the rushing of the evening air, the flashes surprising and blinding him as he balances himself using Soonyoung's unmoving arm. The reporters are going wild, probably at the sight of the most famous detective in Korea and the newly famous painter. Jihoon doesn't blame them, but he totally blames them for the migraine that's brewing in his head right now, causing him to look away from the crowd at the other boy instead, who was happily surveying the cameras.

"You seem to be enjoying this." Jihoon eyes Soonyoung suspiciously. Soonyoung's facial expression doesn't falter, but he leans towards Jihoon's left ear.

"No, I'm giving the camera what they want."

A man approached them from the grand front doors, dark brown hair neatly sitting on his head, a crooked smile on his face. "I haven't seen you since you graduated!"

It's the butler that worked for his family back when Jihoon was still a minor. "Minho Hyung, long time no see!" Minho takes his right hand out of the black suit pocket and shakes Soonyoung's hand, eyes squinted, scrutinizing him. "Is there something wrong with him?" Jihoon laughs.

"Oh, no, nothing." He lets go of the other boy's hand and pulls at Jihoon's shoulder, whispering into his ear. "He looks like your type." Minho steps back, evil smile on his face as Jihoon's blood rushes into his cheeks and shakes his head slightly. He looks at Soonyoung, wondering if he embarrassed himself, but Soonyoung's head was tilted up, studying the building. "It's probably time for you to head inside. You still have a presentation to give in a bit." Jihoon winces, frowning.

"Alright." Jihoon loops his left arm with Soonyoung's right, nodding at Minho. "Actually, Jisoo, the gallery owner, is going to be here soon, can you let him in for me?" He looks back, but the car they arrived in is already gone.

Minho winks. "Consider it done."

Jihoon's heart starts calming down when they make it in the building and into the large elevator, the quiet, annoying elevator jingle playing in the background. Soonyoung's been quiet, eyes starting at the elevator buttons controlled by a red-uniformed elevator operator. The flashes are gone, the noise is gone, and now he's left with his thoughts and an arm he is overly conscious of. All the little flashcards he created are wiped from his brain, and he can't focus, his eyes darting left and right, even though there's nothing to look at.

There's no way he can speak on stage. His mind, his heart, his body, all of him is telling him to run away and hide as soon as the elevator door opens. Well, except his left arm; it's probably the only thing anchoring him. And so when the door slides apart and he is met with a huge sum of white-clothed tables, people chatting in evening gowns and suits, waiters and waitresses pushing drink carts, Jihoon's only moving forward because of the tug from Soonyoung's arm. Soonyoung's arm tightens, pulling Jihoon into his side, and says under his breath, "breath, it's okay, I've got you."

Jihoon shakes his head weakly, his vision swimming. There's so much to see, to hear, and he's overwhelmed. That's when his eyes lock onto the stage.

Standing there, tall, almost like a pillar, is his father. He's the splitting image of Jihoon, but more square and old, wearing a charcoal gray suit. The wrinkled permanent frown on his face was directed towards a man apologizing to him, bowing over and over. He looked so much older than Jihoon last saw him three years ago.

He's not exactly sure where they stand, seven years after his mother died. Back then, Jeonghan and their father always fought while their mother wasted away in a hospital bed. Back then, he was afraid to tell his father that he did not want to inherit the hospital, but he wanted to become an artist. Now here he's standing, achieved his dream, looking at the man he defied, wondering how the hell his father is still throwing parties for him.

Jihoon isn't ungrateful, it's just… whenever he sees his father, he thinks back to seven years ago, when he stood, side by side with his father, knee-deep in snow, tears frozen on his face, head bent down, staring at two graves.

A hand reaches around his back, settling on his waist, and Jihoon feels himself getting pressed against Soonyoung's right side. "I need you to breathe."

"S-sorry." He blinks, looking away from the stage. Soonyoung has a concerned look on his face, but Jihoon shrugs.

They are standing at the edge of the stage when the lights dim, and a spotlight shines at the man apologizing earlier. His father is nowhere to be seen now. The room is deathly silent, except for the occasional shuffling of feet and the sound of china placed on the table. Jihoon spots Jisoo and Seungcheol sitting at the table by the right side of the stage, whispering to each other and holding hands.

The man is speaking now, addressing the large, fancy crowd, and a wave of déjà vu hits him. Jihoon is reminded of the event three weeks ago, when he stood on the stage, seeing the same types of people.

Back then, the voice spoke in his head too.

_You're a mistake. A monster._ He doesn't belong here, not with this crowd at all. He never will.

"Jihoon, look at me." A pair of hands cup his face and drags him back into the present. "I'll be right here." The sound of clapping reaches his ears, louder and louder, until he realizes that it was the people sitting at the tables hitting their hands together. Soonyoung's unwavering gaze pierces his eyes, probably seeing his soul. "Answer them vaguely. You don't owe anyone anything. You can do this."

Soonyoung's talk is generic, but it isn't the words. At this moment, he's staring into Soonyoung's eyes, and he tells himself that the past can wait.

He’s here to figure things out.

———

Jihoon’s okay now. On the stage, Jisoo is cracking jokes at the crowd as Jihoon replies softly into a microphone. Images of Jihoon’s paintings, as well as the other artworks that will be displayed at the gallery, is blown up on a large screen.

Soonyoung was worried when Jihoon was freaking out earlier. But for now, Soonyoung puts it out of his head and scans the room, imprinting the tables, their position, and the people sitting at each table into his mind. He’s looking for…

Jeonghan’s sitting, with Jun to his right, at a table near the very back corner of the room. _So they are back._ He squints to see who else is seated at the table.

A cough makes his head snap around, and his surprised eyes lock onto the calmly collected eyes of an older Jihoon with an emotionless face. 

“Kwon Soonyoung.” His voice is just as commanding and stern as it was three years ago. He can feel his sympathetic nervous system kick in, and Soonyoung involuntarily stiffens.

“Hello, sir.” He practically mumbles under his breath.

“Long time no see.” He turns around quickly. “A word, please.” Staring at his back was like staring into his own past. Sparing one last glance at the stage, he follows the older man out of the large room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some reveal for Jihoon's past but mostly Soonyoung's. In the next part, you'll get to learn more about Soonyoung and see Mr. Lee in action :) I'm so sorry for Soonyoung's POV because he's just so nerdy he recites science terms >:D. I just want to say that Jihoon's parents (or any other character's parents in this story) aren't based on the real-life ones at all, so their appearance and name aren't the same. I mostly did this because of plot reasons, hehe.
> 
> Oh, and I used SHINee members, I don't know if you guys noticed it :D I may add in other people as well, but I haven't thought about it too much. Anyone you guys want to see?
> 
> Next update will be... regular? Do I regularly update on Wednesdays (my time)?


	6. 4 Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've lost my one chapter lead due to work this week :') I haven't been sleeping well either so, if the next chapter is late, it's probably because I'm trying to watch my health. Anyways, I'll try my best.
> 
> I have been listening to An Ode for the past two days... I'm waiting for my albums to arrive! :) 
> 
> Enjoy this update!

The stairwell is dead silent, and the air is still, so when Mr. Lee clears his throat, it cuts through the quietness. He’s looking out of the metal door windows, at the stage where Jihoon and Jisoo are still talking to the crowd. “You know, Jihoon has never told me himself he wanted to paint. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about. You’re here because of Jeonghan, right?” He says this more like an announcement than a question.

Soonyoung can see that Jeonghan got his sharpness from his father, albeit not resembling the older man at all. How inconvenient. He leans back against the wall, sighing, shoving his hands in his pant pockets.

He’s debating whether he should lie or not, but the other speak first. “You’re wondering why he’s back, and why I’m letting him work with me.” The man guesses, folding his arms. A short pause. “Soonyoung, I know you’re smart.”

Maybe he should have tried to avoid Jihoon’s father.

“Which is why I’ll let you investigate him.”

Or. Maybe not. Soonyoung looks up, but Mr. Lee’s face doesn’t betray any emotions. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not stopping you from resuming the case, especially since it was me that hired you to investigate it all those years ago. I can tell you this much: it’s not over.” Soonyoung grimaces, his bad suspicions confirmed. “It’s far, far from over. But I’m here to warn you." His firm eyes lock with Soonyoung's surprised ones. "I’ve made many mistakes as a father, but I still understand him. I don’t know who you are to Jihoon, but I can see you’re important to him.” He’s frowning deeply at Soonyoung. “Don’t let him get hurt. Don’t hurt him. That’s all I ask.”

Soonyoung doesn’t even need to ask to know Mr. Lee is talking about Seokmin’s death three years ago.

He thinks back to the first time he saw Jihoon, when the all but forgotten feeling came back to him. When his heart not only beat faster but also skipped several beats. When he both cursed and thanked the adrenaline in his blood for the courage to talk to the red-faced boy. The short boy, in all black, red-faced and sweaty, had Soonyoung’s whole world and vision in the palm of his hands in a matter of seconds.

He had lost his emotions three years ago. And Jihoon placed them back in his body just by existing.

“It won’t happen.” _Not again_.

The older man nodded, satisfied. He moves forward to pat Soonyoung heavily on the shoulder, almost making him fall. “There’s a garden on the roof, two flights up.” With that said, Mr. Lee turned and closed the heavy metal door quietly behind him.

Soonyoung isn’t sure why the man mentioned the garden, but he decides to trudge up the stairs anyway. When he opened the large metal double doors, cool evening wind hits his face, blowing his hair back. Soonyoung is greeted by rows upon rows of roses and other flowers, surrounding a wooden bench. At the edge of the garden, brick walls standing as tall as Soonyoung’s chest guards people from falling. He approaches the opposite side slowly, passing by the lonely bench.

On the other side of the walls, the city sprawls outward, illuminated by the different lights of rooms and cars. Soonyoung surveys the buildings, matching them with the mental map in his brain.

Here, with the quiet hum of bugs and the dim noise of the streets, Soonyoung sinks into his memories, playing them like movies.

_How did this all start?_

His brain pulls out a memory as the culprit.

———

_A long, pristinely clean hallway. Door looming to his right and left, circular window cut into them like an eye. Echoing footsteps, the nurse's, his professor's, the psychiatrist's, Soonyoung's, mixing and bouncing off the wall. Faces pressed up against the window, some scared, some curious. It's almost like Soonyoung is the animal in an exhibition, and these patients are observing him._

_Thirty-four steps. A door to the right, the window clear and webbed. The psychiatrist unlocks the doors, the keys jingling as he hands it to the nurse, who drops it into her pocket. _

_Inside the room sits an unmade bed with wrinkled white bedsheets. On top, a magazine held up into the air as the man dressed in a gray hospital gown lies on his bed and looks to his left, eyeing his unwelcomed visitors. _

_The door closes, the lock clicks shut, and the nurse peeks into the window. Soonyoung glances at the manila folder as the psychiatrist opens it, memorizing the information. His professor sinks back on the wall, emailing someone on his phone. _

_"Who's the pretty one?" The man smiles, sitting up and tossing the magazine to the foot of his bed. He has broad shoulders, pushing out against the hospital gown. His hair was short, and tattoos weave all around his arms. There's a dent on the bridge of his nose from where his sunglasses usually sits, and scars are scattered on his smooth skin, tanned slightly._

_The professor looks up. "The best student we have. He's going to be the future of psychology."_

_"Oh? But he's so young." He's examining Soonyoung's blank face._

_"Kim Duhan. He's here for racketeering and arson. Burned down his brother's apartment building along with his brother. Shows strong antisocial personality disorder tendencies-“_

_Duhan twirls his fingers. “Or what people like to call, psychopaths. How long are you going to ramble on? I’m sure the future of psychology knows all about my supposed mental illness.” The psychiatrist’s eyebrow twitches angrily. “So, why’s he here today? Is he going to give me therapy? How old are you, boy?”_

_“Twenty.” Soonyoung’s voice was monotone, his expression unchanging. The man grins wider, a glint in this eyes._

_“I like you. You remind me of myself, years ago,” Duhan cocks his head, “arrogant piece of shit, emotionless, no regard for anyone else in the world."_

_Usually what people say enters his mind, and his memory shelves it away for future reference. But this time, his brain is playing this sentence over and over, carefully decoding it. He doesn't know why, but he can't put it down. "How am I similar to a cold-blooded, psychopathic murderer?" He spits out, mildly annoyed._

_The man points, closing one of his eyes as if he was aiming. "How many emotions have you felt? Right now, there's irritation. Have you felt the thick, crushing feeling of fear? The static, jumpy feeling of anxiousness? The burning, throbbing feeling or jealousy? What about the bloating, shining feeling of pride?" Soonyoung's heart starts beating faster. Duhan's voice is like a whisper now. "Or… the creeping, burning passion of love?" Soonyoung didn't know what to say, and he didn't think he could move his mouth even if he wanted to retort something. "The future of psychology, not even able to describe the most basic emotions. How are we different, you ask. Why am I sitting on this bed, wearing these clothes, while you stand, long lab coat draped on your shoulders?_

_"If we're so, so similar, aren't you also a cold-blooded, psychopathic murderer?"_

_Soonyoung feels his heart stop cold. _

_"Open the door." His professor and the psychiatrist looks at him surprised. Duhan simply smirks. "I said, open the door." Soonyoung grits his teeth, his fists shaking._

_The familiar click, just around five minutes ago, as the door swings inward, a nurse worriedly watching the psychiatrist. Soonyoung spins around and exits, his coat flying behind him._

_It isn't until he rushed out of the sliding glass doors of the mental hospital, the sun hitting his eyes, the fall breeze lifting his white lab coat, that he realizes the blur in his vision are tears._

_He hasn't cried since he grew out of babyhood. But now his knees hit the pavement, his right fist slams into the concrete, and dark splatters appear in his shadow. _

_He hasn't cried for years, but now he can't stop._

_Soonyoung can't stop the tears because he knows the man is right. _

———

A blink calls Soonyoung back to the garden. He bends back, shaking out his arm.

Now, almost six years later, Soonyoung knows his mistake all those years ago.

He let Duhan ask him too many questions.

A few months after meeting Duhan, Soonyoung dropped out of medical school. He couldn't bring himself to study and cure mentally unwell people because he realized that he was just like them. He was just like them, but he can't understand them, can't understand the overwhelming fear and anxiety, the passionate desire to kill and hurt, or the sharp attraction to loneliness.

If he can't understand them, he can't understand himself. If he doesn't understand them, he can't help them. He can't help himself.

That all changed when he met Seokmin.

_Why did you give up on me? _Soonyoung asks, squeezing his eyes shut.

The sound of metal makes Soonyoung turn, and there, at the doorway to the stairwell, hands on his knees, is Jihoon, breathing deeply.

"I wasn't going to go anywhere." Soonyoung walks up to the bench as Jihoon catches his breath, but he doesn’t move at all. He stays hovering at the doorframe, half of his body inside, half in the night air.

Jihoon's voice is louder than usual, flying through the cooler air. "Why did you leave?"

His father's face shows up in the back of Soonyoung's mind. _Don't let him get hurt. Don't hurt him. That's all I ask._

"I'm sorry, I was feeling claustrophobic." He says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Is there any way I can make it up to you?"

He's stepping out now, letting the door slam close behind him. Jihoon starts fast and slows to a stop a foot in front of Soonyoung, raising his head.

The stars in the cloudless sky and the glitter in the flowers reflect in his eyes, his cheeks slightly red due to the biting air. Jihoon's usual neutral expression is replaced with a pout. Time slows as Soonyoung stares at his lips.

"Kiss me."

Maybe the leftover adrenaline in his blood vessels is making him braver. Maybe it's something Jihoon has wanted for a long time. Soonyoung isn't too sure, but it makes his heart burst and his face smile. The stars feel like they are spinning now, dragging lines behind them. The moon melts, its light leaking outwards. The windows of the buildings around them almost give the impression of stars reflecting on the water.

Soonyoung doesn't really think, instead letting the butterflies in his stomach guide him to move closer. He wraps his hands around Jihoon's jaw, tilting the shorter boy's face up. "Okay, consider this a congratulation, van Gogh."

Jihoon's different from Seokmin. His eyes get rounder and brighter when he's painting. Soonyoung was in the curtains watching Jihoon when he was painting on stage all those weeks ago, and this is a secret he will take to his grave.

Seokmin made Soonyoung dizzy, but Jihoon makes Soonyoung _burn. _Jihoon covers his face when he gets embarrassed, he curls his fingers when he cringes, he nags people to peel fruits for him. Jihoon's face is rounder, and he has little lines on the side of his mouth when he smiles, almost like a stingray.

And right now, he can feel that stingray smile on Jihoon's lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And...... now the story finally starts >.< Sorry for taking too long to get here. Which characters are you guys more curious about? 
> 
> Also, I recently joined the Carat Amino for... no reason... haha. If anyone is also in it, feel free to message me to chat about this story or anything in particular! :) My username is Mashiro.


	7. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand, I got so busy sending emails... and getting really tired... so this is late. No excuses really, I'm just sorry.
> 
> But, enjoy the start of the actual plot ;)

_TEN YEARS AGO_

_Chan jumps when Jihoon charges into the living room, eyebrows bent into a frown and lips pursed. Behind him, Minho chases, shrugging his suit jacket on. “Jihoon, you want ice cream?” Chan asks tentatively, holding up his half-eaten cone, but Jihoon doesn’t even look at it, practically sprinting now. Chan smiles at Minho when he passes by. “Sorry, Minho Hyung, I tried.” _

_“It’s okay, Chan.” Minho grins nervously. “Jihoon, your father’s having a meeting. You can’t go in there right now!” _

_Jihoon doesn’t stop until he’s in front of two ornate wooden doors and uses all of his strength into pounding on the door. Minho finally catches up with him and grabs Jihoon by the wrist, tugging, but he refuses to move._

_The door opens, revealing a short (but still taller than Jihoon, sadly), chubby man with a finely trimmed mustache. If he had a top hat on, he would look like the man on the monopoly games. “Sir, your father-“_

_Jihoon easily tugs his hand out of surprised Minho’s fingers, pushing past the other butler to enter the room. Inside, bookshelves are built into the wall, holding shelves upon shelves of books all around the room, except for the three floor-length windows opposite to the entrance. In the center of the room sits a fancy wooden desk, with his father seated in a plush chair, looking up with his reading glasses on, an irritated look in his eyes. Around the table stands two men in suits, eyes wide, mouth agape. _

_“Jihoon-“_

_“You can’t sell the house.” Jihoon spits out, interrupting Minho mid-plea. _

_For a second, no one says anything, then one of the men smiles stiffly. “Um, Jihoon, is it? You father’s currently in the middle of a meeting-”_

_“No, actually, we’re done.” The two men look back, shocked at Jihoon’s father’s voice. He puts his glasses down, rubbing his right temple. “Minho, would you escort these two men out of the house? Thank you.” _

_Minho steps forward and nods, nervously glancing at the other butler, who shrugs. “Alright, I’ll lead you to your car.” The two men pack up wordlessly and leave with Minho and the other butler, who exclaims quietly, “I’m too old for this.”_

_Now it’s just Jihoon and his father in the room._

_Jihoon’s father organizes his desk, stacking the stray papers up. “What did you want to discuss, Jihoon?” Up close, Jihoon can see how tired his father is, his eyes sagging and drooping; every move he makes seems to creak._

_"You can't sell the house." _

_His father raises an eyebrow. "And why is that? We're moving to the city where its closer to my work, and I'm not going to keep paying money to maintain this large estate."_

_He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Jihoon can't tell his father that the reason he can't sell the house is because Jihoon hasn't had the chance to paint the field yet. That he doesn't want to forget the view behind the house. He doesn't want to forget the rock he and his brothers played on._

_But his father wouldn't understand, just like his mother. _

_He needs to hide it. Hide his dreams of painting. Dreams of art and paint and colors, so many colors Jihoon sees but could never, never touch._

_"Jihoon, I know you dislike change, but this is better for you. You'll get to attend high school and meet other friends your age." He stands up and moves in front of Jihoon, putting his hands on his shoulders. "You'll realize there's so much more to this world than just a house."_

_Looking into his father's eyes, Jihoon knows he's right._

_But the truth doesn't make it hurt less._

_Later than night, Jihoon cries himself to sleep and dreams of a boy with stars in his eyes._

———

Jihoon approaches the back door of the gallery leading into the studio rooms, digging in his pockets for the keys, the large buildings towering over him. He unlocks the door and grabs the knob, but then he hesitates.

For a second he stands there, listening to the slight rumble of the earth and the tiniest breezes that float through the alleyway.

Jisoo had called him ten minutes ago, with a brief message. "Come to the gallery. There's something I need to tell you. Hurry." The alley around him is lifeless, and he can feel the dread pooling at the bottom of his stomach.

And he's afraid. What if Jisoo doesn't want Jihoon's paintings anymore? What if he cancels the auction?

What would Jihoon do then? What would he say?

A voice interrupts his questions and in a split second he almost slams his head into the white door as Soonyoung wraps his arms around his neck. "Jihoonie!" Jihoon pushes him off and glares at the smiling boy who is standing with his hands raised. He’s wearing a loose collared white shirt with a blue stripe running horizontally, tucked into a pair of ripped jeans, and Jihoon feels his heart flutter.

"You almost fucking murdered me." He crosses his arms. He’s really trying to be angry, but it comes out as a whine instead.

"But I was surprised. Did Jisoo call you here too?" Soonyoung asks, falling into step beside Jihoon as he turns the doorknob and enters the studio room hallways. Jihoon looks at the other boy, who's staring at the ceiling while walking casually, his hands behind his head. The hallway is dim; the only light came streaming in from the small windows at the top of the wall, illuminating all the dust floating around. Wooden doors line the hallway, some labeled with names of artists, most of them open and leading to empty rooms.

Jihoon nods. "Did Jisoo also call you?"

Soonyoung grins as he glances at Jihoon, swirling a black pen his in fingers. "He makes me keep inventory. It's like my second job." They're nearing the office now, side by side, walking a little too close to be mistaken as friends.

Seungcheol's head pops out of the door of the office, giving them an uneasy smile. He’s still dressed in his cop uniform, so it seems Jisoo called him while he was patrolling. “Come on, hurry up." But Soonyoung pauses.

"You can stop hiding now." Soonyoung turns, and the three watch slowly as a tall man with a camera hanging at his neck steps out from behind the wall. He's younger than Jihoon; his nose is supporting a pair of thin glasses, broad shoulders covered by a wrinkled striped shirt tucked into a clearly not ironed pair of pants, pens and small pieces of paper shoved into his pant and shirt pockets. "You seriously think I wouldn't notice that the door closed just a second later than it usually does?"

Jihoon couldn't resist rolling his eyes.

"Soonyoung, who is that?" Jisoo's head pokes out of the door above Seungcheol, his face drooping and frowning, the glasses on his face looks like it’s about to fall off his nose.

The boy starts to introduce himself almost too enthusiastically, flipping back his dark maroon hair. "I'm Mingyu! I-" A pen is flung into his face by Soonyoung, smirking.

"Actually, since you're already here, why don't you join our meeting too?" Jihoon looks at Jisoo hesitantly. "Just trust me, Jisoo. I think he'll prove to be useful."

“Soonyoung, this isn’t a joke.” Jisoo thinks for a moment. ”I hope you know what you’re doing.” He sighs, beckoning the three to enter the office.

The room is windowless, the graying yellow wallpaper and the ornate furniture boasts the room’s age. At the end of the office stands a table, messy, with papers falling off of it once a while. In front of it is a conference table with rolling chairs, completely contrasting the aging look of the room. Sitting at the table already is Wonwoo, typing away at a laptop, who raised his eyes when the others walked in. Seungcheol and Jisoo sat side by side, and Mingyu sits in between Seungcheol and Jihoon. Soonyoung closes the door and hovers behind Jihoon.

The air is solemn, and it makes Jihoon fidget with his fingers.

Seungcheol speaks first, which surprises Jihoon. His comment is short and to the point. “Two paintings… are gone.”

Jihoon almost falls out of his chair. “What?” Soonyoung places his hands on his shoulder to keep him steady. Mingyu slips a notepad out, already scribbling what could be the next headline.

“Which two?” Soonyoung asks, unfazed.

But Wonwoo is watching the younger man, his eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry, but who let a reporter in here?” His eyes stare accusingly at Soonyoung, so it seems he already knows the answer.

Mingyu looks up, but Soonyoung interrupts his response. He glances at Mingyu with a sly look in his eyes. “So let’s make a compromise.”

Mingyu deadpans. “Soonyoung, I’ve never compromised with you. You always blackmail me.” That sounds like Soonyoung, Jihoon thinks.

Soonyoung clears his throat. “Let’s make a compromise. You tell your boss you want to take over the gallery news, and you know he’ll let you have it.” Mingyu shrugs. “And then don’t report this.”

Mingyu’s mouth hangs down.“You’re asking me to not earn money? This is probably the biggest scoop of this month.”

“You’re right. Maybe I’ll just tell a certain someone about-“

“Fuck you.” Mingyu groans, shoving his notepad into his pockets. “Okay, what’s in it for me?” He crosses his arms, looking like an angry puppy.

Soonyoung pretends to think, and then he snaps, pointing at Wonwoo. “How about this one goes to dinner with you? I’ll treat you.”

Wonwoo stands up, slamming his hands on the table. “Wait a damn second, Soonyoung, you can’t just volunteer me on a date. Especially for your own twisted needs.”

“My needs?” Soonyoung’s voice is cold. “Wonwoo, you realize how big this is, right? Think of the newspaper: Two Gallery Paintings Stolen. This can ruin the gallery. With Mingyu on the gallery news, we can avoid controversy.”

Jihoon realizes that Soonyoung knew something important has happened and used Mingyu as a backup. He shudders. Soonyoung’s mind is truly scary when he’s serious. Jisoo looks relieved, and Seungcheol tries to calm Wonwoo down. 

Wonwoo‘s seething with anger, sharp eyes angled down. “And what makes you think he’s going to agree to it?” He says through clenched teeth.

Not even a second later, Mingyu looks like he’s about to cry. “Okay, I’ll do it.” Everyone is staring at him, who looks like he’s fighting tears. Soonyoung shrugs.

“There you go.”

“Soonyoung, once this is over, I’m going murder your sorry little ass.” Wonwoo threatens a not worried Soonyoung.

Jihoon raises his hand weakly, almost like a kindergartener. “Um, which paintings are we missing again?”

It looks like Jisoo and Seungcheol and Wonwoo are reluctant to answer. "_The Fist Fighter_…" Jisoo says slowly. "And Jihoon's _Zephyrantes_."

Everyone's eyes are on him, and Jihoon takes a deep breath to calm himself. Both of Soonyoung's hands on are his shoulders now, firm and reassuring, albeit not helping, albeit not helping at all. "Jisoo, we have to get it back." He's trying not to make a scene, but his hands, clenched into tight fists on his thighs, are shaking. His heart pinches itself, and his voice comes out quiet. “You have to get that painting back.”

“Of course,” Jisoo reassures, standing, “that’s why I called Soonyoung and Seungcheol.”

“Okay, but how the fuck does something like this happen?” Mingyu asks, adjusting his glasses. “And why those two paintings? I can understand _The Fist Fighter_ because it’s renowned, but Jihoon’s painting doesn’t exactly have a monetary value yet.”

“That’s not what confuses me.” Soonyoung shakes his head. “Both paintings are definitely valuable. It’s the combination of the two that’s intriguing.”

Jihoon feels something drop onto his hands and wipes his face quickly, shaking off Soonyoung’s hands. “I- I’m going to wash my face.” He gets up unsteadily and dashes to the door. Soonyoung follows him out the door, giving a small wave to the people sitting in the room.

He grabs Jihoon’s wrist, tugging him. When he stops walking, his steps resonate a couple of times. He’s facing Soonyoung, and the sinking feel in his stomach expands and it overwhelms his entire body, his eyes sting, and suddenly he found himself shaking and sobbing. It echoes through the halls, covering the quiet classical music drifting with the dust. He almost loses his balance but Soonyoung catches him, hugging him to his chest. There they stand, Jihoon crying into Soonyoung, Jihoon’s hands clutching onto Soonyoung’s shirt, as the other sets his chin on Jihoon’s head. He pats Jihoon’s back, whispering, “it’s okay, I’ll find it” over and over again. “I promise I’ll find it. I don’t understand why anyone would do this.”

———

“I don’t understand why you would do this,” Jun says, staring flatly at Jeonghan, tapping away at his phone, his brows furrowed. Jeonghan looks up, his blonde hair slightly curled, sitting neatly on his head. His black shirt is unbuttoned at the top, his jeans ripped and straining against his legs. “I know he wanted_ The Fist Fighter_, but why did you take the other painting?”

“It’s pretty. It looks like it’ll be Jihoon’s masterpiece.”

Jun laughs. “Jeonghan, I’ve never seen you do something purely for aesthetic. That painting means something to you, doesn’t it?” Jeonghan glares sharply. “_Zephyrantes_. What does that flower mean again?” 

“Jun.” His voice is stern, warning him to stop. But Jun’s having a lot of fun. He hasn’t seen Jeonghan worked up in a long time.

So he pushes a little more. “I don’t know, if you really wanted to steal Jihoon’s masterpiece, why didn’t you take the one on the easel? I think that one has a little more emotion-“

“Shut the fuck up.”

“What does that rock mean to Jihoon? To you?”

Suddenly Jun’s pushed back from where he sits on the bed, his head colliding with the white sheets of the hotel room. Jeonghan’s pale face is angry as he pins the Chinese boy to the bed. “I told you to shut the fuck up.” He’s yelling now.

“Aww, his little pet is angry. Do you think he’ll punish me?” Jun gives Jeonghan a thin smile. “Or, maybe,” he whispers, “the pet himself will do it?”

Jeonghan is quiet, his chest heaving. “I fucking hate you. You piss me off.” He leans down. “I don’t talk about your past. Don’t talk about mine.”

Jun stops smiling. “Alright.” He says as he wraps his arms around the other’s neck.

They both have a lot of scars. Some of them are mistakes from other people that scar them, and some of them were cut with their own two hands. They shouldn’t be working for him. They shouldn’t use each other’s passion for someone else. But in the heat of the hotel room, it’s all forgotten, at least for a little while.

And I’m going to fix his mistake this time, Jun thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's the boss? What's the painting? Turns out Jun has a past as well >.< I'm pretty sure I have most everyone's backstories planned out. Although I seriously considered branding this story mystery... you guys already know who stole the painting so...
> 
> I have chapters separated by events, so that's why I would split chapters even though they can literally just stand alone. Just a forewarning then: this next chapter is going to have several parts because I'm a freak who can't seem to understand chapters aren't supposed to be parts.
> 
> I'm also doing SVT Inktober on Amino if anyone wants to look. If anyone else is doing Inktober I'd be happy to look too!


	8. 6 Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, before all else, if you are a Monbebe or just like Monsta X, keep up the fight! Us carats are fighting with you :) This also goes for any other fans from any other fandoms who went through a lot this week.
> 
> Second, don't kill me. This is really late but I finally got it done. The upcoming parts are very important to the story and contain a lot of background/foreshadowing information so I had to make sure there weren't any holes. Without further rambling from me, here's the next part!

Jihoon watches the fan go around and around, laying flat on his bed, covered in blankets. He’s not even sure why or how his fan was turned on, since his air conditioner is always set around sixty degrees, but he's too lazy to get up and flip the switch, even though it's the reason why layers and layers of blankets on crushing him.

All the weight of the blankets is making it hard to breathe, so he has to think about every single breath he takes. And it pushes all the fear and doubts out of his head.

A melody starts to play by his head, so Jihoon grabs his phone and answers with a slightly irritated, “What do you want?”

Okay, maybe he is just a little more than slightly irritated.

Soonyoung‘s on the other side. “Are you still in bed?”

Jihoon pauses for a bit, then lies. “No.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Jihoon. I’m about to arrive in five minutes with food, so get out of bed by then.” His eyes widen when he realizes all the background noise from the police office that he heard this morning is gone.

“Wait-“ Soonyoung hung up already. Jihoon throws his phone across the room accompanied by a “fuck you Soonyoung”, but it lands soundlessly, painlessly, and _unsatisfyingly_ on the blankets piled on the floor.

He moves all the blankets to the side of the bed, getting up and stretching. All the magazines he’s been reading through the night are scattered on the scattered blankets. Maybe it’s time for him to actually clean up, but Jihoon knows the blankets would be back on the floor in a day or two.

He used to do this with Chan, pile all the blankets on the floors, letting them bounce around the room. And Jeonghan always cleaned it up, groaning. So now it’s become Jihoon’s habit, something he does to comfort himself.

He shakes the memory away and heads into the bathroom.

When the doorbell rings, he’s in the living room, trying to look as alive as possible with his eye bags that almost touch the ground. He crosses the room quickly and unlocks the door, unwilling to admit he is just a bit excited.

Soonyoung’s there, his usual cheeky smile, looking impeccable in the blue police uniform, one of his hands holding a plastic bag, the other full of mail. “I hope you don’t mind that I took the mail for you,” he says as he enters.

Jihoon shrugs. “No, I wouldn’t have left the house today either way.”

“Wow, sometimes I forget you’re a hermit.” Soonyoung set the food on the coffee table in front of the tv as Jihoon settles on the couch to look through the mail.

“Seungcheol, Seungcheol, Seungcheol… Oh, one for Hansol, surprisingly. I hope it’s his credit card bill.” He chuckles as he reaches the bottom. It’s the newest art magazine. “Thank God, something new to read.” He flips it open as Soonyoung sits down beside him. “Art exhibit, some college student, art collector-“ Something falls from inside the magazine. 

It’s a purple letter, meticulously patterned, with a name written in messy scrawl. It’s for Jihoon.

Boy is Jihoon sick of letters.

“You have friends that send you holiday mail?” Soonyoung looks curiously. “Or better yet, you have friends?” Jihoon smacks him on the head.

“No, I just live with two random humans and is now eating lunch with a hamster.” He rolls his eyes as he opens the letter. Soonyoung humphs as he shoves rice into his mouth, looking more and more like a hamster.

His blood runs cold as he scans it.

_Jihoon:_

_I bet you’re busy running around trying to find your painting. You won’t be able to find it. Well, without my help you won’t. I’m going to be the great amazing person that I am and help you. But first, I need you to do me a favor._

_I’m trying to pay back a debt I owe to someone years ago. There’s an art gallery that needs some help. I have included two plane tickets. Don’t worry, the hotel and food will be taken care of. Everything is arranged, I just need your talent. If you finish this, I will help you get your painting back._

_You might be thinking, how can you believe me? Well, the plane tickets and hotel are fucking expensive so I hope that’s some motivation. If not, show this to Soonyoung, I’m sure he’ll be able to tell you this is real._

_Don’t let me down. Maybe one day we’ll meet again!_

At the bottom is a crude drawing of a cat.

Soonyoung’s eyebrow twitches. “I hate to admit it, but this person isn’t kidding about the plane tickets and the hotel.” He blinks, looking to the side like he’s thinking, muttering to himself. “To be honest, if he’s involved, the entire scandal seems to make a little more sense.”

“Who are you talking about?”

He shakes his head hesitantly. “He’s a proud motherfucker, so he must have a reason why he’s not broadcasting his good deeds, so I’ll respect that. But,” he locks his eyes with Jihoon’s, “are you sure you want to do this? He’s not entirely trustworthy, but if there’s anyone who can find your painting, it’s definitely him.”

Jihoon thinks for a moment. Then he looks down at his hands, eyeing the two tickets. “If… if I agree to this, will you come with me?”

Soonyoung is shocked. “Who, me?”

“Well,” Jihoon struggles to find a good reason, “you’re the detective.”

“I- I mean, I guess.” He shrugs. “But I don’t know if Seungcheol will let me take those days off.” He reaches for the tickets, and Jihoon gives them to him. “It’s a three-day trip this Friday… in two days.”

Jihoon smiles mischievously. “He doesn’t have to know.”

“You’re a bastard towards Seungcheol, I don’t know how he puts up with you.”

“He loves me,” Jihoon assures him, grabbing another container of rice and digging into the meat.

“I wonder what he’s up to,” Soonyoung says to himself. “He’s never kind for a reason.”

Jihoon stops mid-bite and asks with food in his mouth, “Who?”

But Soonyoung doesn’t say anything, instead wiping the sauce around Jihoon’s mouth with his hand and silently contemplates.

Jihoon stares at him, and he thinks too. About how mysterious Soonyoung is. How he’s known by the “rich society”, as Jeonghan used to call their father’s society when they were in high school. How Soonyoung knew Jeonghan.

But mostly, why did the media say Soonyoung disappeared three years ago? Did it have anything to do with Jeonghan? Who’s this mysterious person with the promise to find Jihoon’s painting? And how does Soonyoung know him?

He really thought he knew Soonyoung well, but now that he thinks about it, he knows so little about Soonyoung’s past.

And it makes him frustrated. He’s frustrated that Soonyoung doesn’t tell him anything. He’s frustrated at this new Soonyoung, sitting completely still and not saying a word.

So he pouts. He sits with his lips puckered and eyebrows angled downward. And he angrily eats his rice.

One day, he’ll beat it out of Soonyoung.

———

“What the fuck do you mean out of the country?” Jeonghan slams his hands on the almost crumbling, rusty metal desk. Jun leans back in his chair, tilting dangerously backward.

“I’m going to get on a plane. I’m going to China. I’m going this weekend.”

“Why the fuck did I just find out?” Jeonghan shakes his head. “You think that something as big as you going out of the country you should have told him, weeks ago, and not me two days before?”

Jun shrugs. “He doesn’t control me.”

“Don’t lie to me, Jun. You’re not going back home, are you?”

“No, I’m not.”

“He’s going to murder you.”

“No, he won’t. He wouldn’t want to displease my dad.”

Jeonghan stares at him skeptically, rubbing his neck.

The metal doors to the dark storage room open quickly, light suddenly rushing into the room. Jun is so surprised he falls backward, the back of the chair slamming into the ground. He lets out a gasp of pain while Jeonghan mutters “karma.”

“Junhui, explain yourself.” At the door is a man, arms covered in tattoos, face angular and sunken, messy black hair down to his shoulders. For someone their age, he looks ten years their senior.

Jun dusts himself off as he glares. “Fuck off, Kwangsik, none of your business.”

Kwangsik grins eerily. “Anything that _he_ may want to know is my business. Just like you and pretty girl over there, our purpose is to serve him.”

“Killing your brother is serving him?” Jeonghan scoffs.

There was a momentary silence, short-lived, before Kwangsik clinches his fists and yells, “Keep my brother out of this!”

“You certainly didn’t. He wanted to leave, and you murdered him.”

“I didn’t do it!” Kwangsik is screaming now, his face red and his teeth showing. “That damn detective did!”

“Take responsibility for your own actions, Kwangsik. Your brother died because you gave him those drugs you made.” Jeonghan spits out. “You’re a disgusting lowlife, and I advise you to stay out of this unless you want me to tell _him_ the whole story.” Jeonghan is beyond scary when he’s mad, but Junhui smiles proudly at his partner.

Kwangsik is silent, glowering and scowling, but he knows better than to cross Jeonghan, their boss’s favorite subordinate. “Jeonghan. You are more involved than you think. If you didn’t feed him those lies-“

“Kwangsik, that’s enough.” Jun butts in. “You have ten seconds to get the fuck out of here before I make you.”

He turns to leave but pauses. “I’m going to make the rest of your short life miserable.” He says without turning around and stalks away.

Jun shakes his head. “Talking to him makes me lose my brain cells.”

Jeonghan looks at him worriedly. “But he’s right, Jun. If he finds out, things will certainly go downhill.”

And that dread question comes. Jun expected it, but it still makes his heart freeze.

His question was quiet.

“Jun, why is this so urgent?”

Why. Thinking of it almost makes Jun laugh. It’s stupidly silly.

He owes someone a debt a long time ago. No, maybe debt isn’t the right word.

Promise. He promised her all those years ago. He couldn’t protect her, couldn’t save her, but he promised her.

“It’s just something I need to do.”

Jeonghan sighs, defeated. “Fine. But promise me you’ll be careful.”

“You know me.” Jun holds out his pinky finger. “I’m the most careful person.” Jeonghan steps forward, entwining their fingers together and laughed humorlessly.

Sorry, Jun apologizes in his head.

———

_TWENTY YEARS AGO_

_He runs into his room and slams the door, locking it quickly before pressing himself against the door and sliding down, his shaking hands covering his mouth. A second later, several bangs on the door shake the entire room. Several women scream from the outside. "Jun! Come out right now!"_

_Jun shakes his head, then realizes they can't see him. He has less than five minutes before they come back into the room with the master key. He looks around his room and spots his phone on the floor by his bed. He leaps towards it, struggling to unlock it with his shaking hands. "Come on, come on!" _

_It lets him in, and he dials his parents' phone number. It rings once. Twice. "Hello? Junhui?"_

_"Save me, please." He fights the urge to scream into the phone._

_"Stop messing around, son. I'm in the middle of something."_

_"Please!" He cries, tears falling and staining the gray carpet. "Please come home." Another bang on the door. Jun turns so quickly he felt like he snapped his own neck. "I'm begging you."_

_"Jun-" He presses the red button, cutting off his father. Jun practically throws his phone under the bed as the door bursts open, a crowd of maids rushing in. _

_"What are you doing?"_

_"Stay away from me!" He scoots backward until his back collides with the nightstand, the handles digging into his skin. "You killed her!"_

_The maids look at each other. "No," one explains. "You saw wrong, dear-"_

_"You're lying! You killed her! You killed her because…" Because of me, Jun wanted to say, but it's caught in his throat, and no sound comes out. "Stay away!" He screeches when some of them try to step forward. _

_"You're throwing a fit for no reason, Master Junhui." Some of them say, as two complain, "why are we even wasting our time with him? We have other things we need to do before master gets home."_

_The tallest one speaks up. "This kid's six. He doesn't know a damn thing. No one's going to believe him. Let's go clean up."_

_They shuffle loudly and quickly out the door, shutting it behind them. The room is dark, the thick curtains covering the two windows of the room. In the darkness, Junhui cries quietly, trying to push a gruesome image out of his mind. He's the reason why she died. She didn't do anything wrong. Her dream will never be fulfilled._

_He should have been fair._

_Ten minutes later, his parents arrived with the police._

———

Twenty years later, Jun is going to keep his promise. He's going to keep her dream alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's this mysterious woman in Jun's life? It's not as exciting as you think thought >o<. Plus a new character and tons of new information (and who did Soonyoung kill? >.>). Well, I hope you guys enjoyed reading and have a nice day!


	9. 6 Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh... Happy New Years! Happy 2020!
> 
> December pushed me around with exams and scraping pennies together to buy presents so... I finally used the time waiting for this new year to start to write this chapter >.< It's been so long I had the read the last chapter again to realize where I left off T_T
> 
> Anyways, cheers to a good new year!

_THREE YEARS AGO_

_It is sunny today. Sunny and bright and beautiful, as if everything in the world is going just as planned._

_As if no one died._

_Outside, everything is perfect. Inside, there is a solemn quietness, like a blanket of snow covering the ground. Like energy, stored under a layer of pressure. _

_It doesn't take long to explode as Seungkwan bursts into tears again. Jisoo holds his cousin close, his body shaking due to the other's sobs. He doesn't say anything, since he doesn't know what to say, staring at a picture propped up on the mantel, which itself was decorated with flowers and ribbons. A large smile, crinkly eyes, and a glow that Jisoo could feel through the picture. _

_A warm glow that contrasted with the stillness and coldness of the box underneath._

_Jisoo met Seokmin through Seungkwan. When Seungkwan invited him and Soonyoung over for dinner, and Jisoo would get to know the boy. His appearance was a frenzy; sharp jaw, curly black hair, and sometimes when he wore short sleeve shirts, Jisoo can see the bulge on his arms and the small peek of a tattoo. Completely different from his voice, loud and happy and smiley, if that's even possible. Even if it isn't, Seokmin made it possible._

_"Don't trash my house, Boo Seok Soon." Jisoo would joke if he couldn't stay for dinner, knowing the house will look like a hurricane disaster and quietly making a mental note to hire people to clean it up afterward._

_Soonyoung and Seokmin were really close then. Always standing too close to be mistaken as friends. Seokmin could read Soonyoung's mind every time, stopping him from doing something stupid. _

_Soonyoung really changed after he met Seokmin two years ago. _

_The old Soonyoung, the Soonyoung that Jisoo grew up to know, was a quiet, emotionless, studious kid, only occasionally smiling when he’s with Seungkwan and Wonwoo. The boy who Seungkwan approached because Seungkwan felt sad, seeing he was lonely and shy. The boy who would tag along with Seungkwan’s crazy antics and get scolded by the all-too-mature Wonwoo, eyes almost always squinted behind his glasses, calling out Seungkwan’s bullshit. The boy who had dated Wonwoo because someone told him they looked good next to each other, without knowing exactly what love and dating meant. But Wonwoo didn’t have an effect on him, not like Seokmin._

_Soonyoung was like a hallucination when he went to college, there but intangible, untouchable, and Jisoo rarely got to see him or talk to him. When Jisoo saw Soonyoung two years ago, he couldn’t even believe it was him. The shy kid that entered college early to study psychology was replaced with a happy, mystery-solving, perhaps too full of emotions Soonyoung that severed ties with his parents, ended his chains to a major he didn't want to study, abandoned the methodical life his parents gave him. A Soonyoung Jisoo couldn’t believe but came to love. _

_“Why isn’t Soonyoung here?” Seungkwan asks, clenching his fists. “Of all people he should be here.” _

_Jisoo reaches over to cover Seungkwan’s shaking fists, squeezing them. “Seungkwan, it’s hard on all of us, but it must have hit Soonyoung the hardest. Don’t blame him.”_

_But this does make Jisoo worry. So, unsurprisingly, he finds himself standing in front of Soonyoung’s apartment, ringing his doorbell for the seventeenth time. “I know you’re in there Soonyoung, you’re still on my GPS family tracking.” _

_After a minute or two of waiting, the front door opens. Soonyoung looks tired and lifeless, eyes sagging and swollen, probably from crying. His posture also sags, making him appear so much smaller. He doesn’t even say a word, instead tucking his hands into his jacket pocket and stares. Staring at Jisoo like they were strangers. Like they’ve never known each other. Staring almost coldly, almost as if Jisoo is wasting his time. “Hyung-“_

_Jisoo interrupts him with a hug, pulling Soonyoung tightly. “I was worried about you.“ Soonyoung doesn’t try to stop him. They stay like that for a bit, Jisoo catching Soonyoung when he crumbles, sliding to the ground, hands painfully tight on the older’s arm. ”Have you been eating?” But he doesn’t even need an answer to see that the other hasn’t been eating properly. _

_They talk a bit. About how Soonyoung is doing. About Soonyoung leaving Seokmin’s apartment to live with him and Seungkwan. _

_"Are you sure you want to quit your job?" _

_"My job… reminds me of too many things." Jisoo doesn't push, because he knows it has something to do with Seokmin._

_Between the tears and calm conversation, Jisoo notices something that really frightens him, chills him to the bone. _

_It’s not scary in the way of jump scares and horror movies, or when your life choices are laid out in front of you and you have to pick something. It has nothing to do with the fear involved with choices and mistakes. The best way Jisoo can describe is it the fear of the past. Sitting there feels like Jisoo traveled back in time. Unless he was crying, Soonyoung was cold, distant, uncaring, face permanently in a deadpan expression. It is as if Seokmin never existed, except in the brief moments where tears slid down the other’s face, and when he wipes it away, the two years earlier disappears. _

_Two years of jokes, giggles, laughs, and love._

_What exactly was Seokmin to Soonyoung? Why did Soonyoung change so suddenly? Jisoo couldn’t help but wonder._

_Will he ever see the happy, sad, playful, alive Soonyoung again? _

———

The moment when he opens the door to find a frantic Seungcheol, Jisoo knows Soonyoung made a stupid choice again, even though Seungcheol’s queries didn’t even concern the thin eyed boy. “What do you mean, Jihoon’s been gone since last night?”

“I thought maybe… he stayed with Soonyoung? But doesn’t Soonyoung stay with you?” Jisoo walks Seungcheol to the kitchen table, sitting down, motioning towards Seungkwan for his coffee, who slides it towards him and proceeds to eat the too-many pizza rolls on his plate. Wonwoo, who was also sitting at the circular table, looks up warily.

“Yeah, just like Wonwoo and Seungkwan.”

“If you’re asking about Soonyoung, he’s not here.” Wonwoo shrugs, taking a pizza roll off Seungkwan’s plate while opening the morning newspaper.

Jisoo stops, his mug halfway towards his mouth. “What did you say?”

“If you want a pizza roll, just ask, damn it,” Seungkwan complains, chucking one at Wonwoo, who catches it and shoves it in his mouth, laughing.

“Wonwoo, explain yourself.” Seungcheol groans, his eyebags making him age several years easily, and Jisoo places his hand on Seungcheol's, squeezing tightly.

Wonwoo rolls his eyes, grabbing another pizza roll from Seungkwan, who quietly and angrily holds up his fork as a threat, the usual pout sitting on his lips. “Soonyoung’s not in his room or anywhere in the house. He’s not here.”

“And why wasn’t I informed of this?” Jisoo glares.

“We tried to tell you yesterday.” Seungkwan shrugs. “You yelled at Soonyoung to clean up his room last night because clothes were scattered all on the ground. Both Wonwoo and I said he wasn’t home.”

Jisoo’s speechless. Never in the world would he ever expect Soonyoung to be this unnoticeable.

Or himself to be so oblivious.

Damn it, the gallery problems are stressing him out.

Seungcheol takes out his phone and pokes at it, trying to call Jihoon. “When did they leave? Where did they go? Oh my god, these irresponsible kids.”

“10 dollars and a pizza roll they fucking.” Seungkwan laughs, slapping a bill on the table.

Jisoo rolls his eyes. “This isn’t funny, Seungkwan. And don’t bet.”

“Fine. 10 dollars and a mug of hot chocolate that they woke up from fucking because it’s 7 a.m.” Wonwoo smiles smugly, taking a crisp bill from his jacket, which makes Jisoo frown.

“Damn it!” Seungkwan then dodges the napkin chucked at his face. “Why are you so logical and smart, I want my refund in genetics! Take away some of my cuteness and handsomeness and give me some smarts too!”

“There isn’t much to take away,” Wonwoo blocks a murder attempt from the said boy.

The phone dialed five times on speaker until a weak “what the fuck do you want, Seungcheol” come through. On the screen, Jihoon blinks slowly at the camera, the room dim and the white blanket reflecting light from the phone screen back.

“Okay, you dumb ass. Where the heavenly fuck are you?” Seungcheol yells angrily.

Jihoon blinks again, as if he has no idea what the mad man in front of him is talking about, and then flinches like he’s made a mistake. “Uh. Right.”

“And where is Soonyoung?” Jisoo asks. A hand shoots up behind Jihoon. Well, that answers his question.

And their bets. “Go get me hot chocolate, peasant.” Wonwoo teases Seungkwan, who’s pouting and clutching to his money. “You can keep your money, I don’t leech off anyone but Soonyoung.”

Soonyoung’s head pops up behind Jihoon, chin sitting on the other’s bare shoulder. “Wonwoo, that’s so mean!”

Wonwoo moves over to the camera. “You were the one who offered me dinner with the… whoever he was!”

“Oh, are you looking forward to it?” Soonyoung smirks and winks, making Wonwoo flush.

“N-no. I don’t even know his name.” Wonwoo pushes his glasses up on his nose. 

“Uh-huh, I totally utterly completely but not really believe you.”

Jisoo grabs the phone and glares into the front camera. “Stop messing around, where are you two?”

Jihoon turns to look at Soonyoung, who sighs, realizing the responsibility to explain was dumped on him. The responsibility and the inevitable execution. “If I said that we decided to take a sudden vacation to China, would you believe me?”

Wonwoo and Seungcheol snorts. “Okay, then I guess I won’t explain.” Soonyoung rolls his eyes.

“Jihoon wouldn’t waste money like that.” Seungcheol laughed as Jihoon sticks his tongue out at him. “And I don’t remember anyone losing anything in China, so don’t say you had to retrieve something.”

“Well, Jihoon did lose something in China.” They watch as Soonyoung leans closer to whisper something in Jihoon’s ears.

His face flushes and then the camera was thrown at Soonyoung’s face. When the camera focuses, they can only see half of Soonyoung’s face pressed against the pillow, eyes waned into a crescent, giggling. “I’m going to go take a shower!” Jihoon’s voice drifts away from the phone.

Jisoo groans as he covers his face, passing the phone to Seungcheol, who’s watching Seungkwan, who’s bent over and laughing his organs out. “Okay. Soonyoung. Explain yourself.”

Soonyoung’s face suddenly loses emotion as he grimaced. “To be completely honest, I’m not lying when I said this was planned suddenly. Jihoon got the tickets two days ago.”

“Got… the tickets?” Wonwoo peaks behind Seungcheol’s shoulder.

“Who else is rich enough to support people making last-minute plane rides to China, of all places? Yes, the cat lady strikes again.”

Wonwoo stiffens. “Soonyoung, no, you shouldn’t-“

“I know. But it’s for a good reason. I promise I won’t do anything stupid.”

Wonwoo grabs the phone suddenly, startling Seungcheol. “You don’t understand, they don’t wait for you to make a mistake! They’ll come to find you and-“

“That’s enough, Wonwoo.” His expression is dead serious, usually smiley eyes slanted downward. “I know what I’m doing.”

Wonwoo hesitates but looks away, defeated. “Fine.” He passes the phone to Jisoo, who’s watching their conversation quizzically. “I’m going to work on some paperwork.” The three watch as he shuffles over to his room.

“Hey, what about the hot chocolate?” Seungkwan calls out as Wonwoo slams his door. Jisoo looks down at the phone, only to find that Soonyoung hung up already. Seungkwan looks down at the steaming mug and shrugs, pouring small marshmallows and tossing the peppermints in. “Whatever. Free hot chocolate for me.”

“It’s free for you either way,” Jisoo says weakly.

A moment of silence, broken by the oldest and most frustrated person in the room. Seungcheol speaks the heavy question hanging over the entire apartment. “What the hell are they doing in China?”

———

"So, tell me. How does your memory work?"

Soonyoung swirls his finger in the air, as if he is directing a symphony. He’s sitting in the hotel bed, watching Jihoon get dressed, trying to procrastinate as long as possible. "Well, a lot of people like to call it photographic memory, but it's not that simple. That makes it sound like I put effort into etching every situation and surrounding into my brain." The finger comes back to tap his forehead slowly, as he looks up at it, lips slightly parted. "My brain isn't an etch-a-sketch. It's not like a video camera either. In fact, I would say I live like how normal people live, see the world as everyone else sees it. It's just," he chuckles, "there's no way for me to know how other people see and remember things, right?"

Jihoon shrugs, pulling the black turtleneck over his head. "Normal people… How would I describe it… we often see the world but we don't observe everything." He sits down on the side of the bed, slipping his socks on as Soonyoung buries his face in the covers again.

"I don't observe either." Finally decided that he's procrastinated enough, he gets off the bed, grabbing a matching turtleneck from the already open closet. "It sounds weird, but I don't know how to describe my memory. The best way I can describe it is that my brain is hyperaware of everything subconsciously. Almost as if it deems everything important.

"There are several different ways to categorize memory in psychology. Simply, most people have sensory memory, an instant snapshot that doesn't last very long, and they have to use effort to encode it into their brain. The memory is in the short term and moves to the long term, if at all. That's when most people forget things, in this process of transferring to the long term. I don’t seem to have that problem. My brain just stores everything in sensory memory permanently…" He's pursing his lips at the wall and then sits up with a start. "Ah, I'm sorry for boring you."

"I'm not bored." Jihoon pats him on the back, blinking, thinking. "I remember Seungcheol describing it as… 4D memory." He laughs, watching Soonyoung shrug himself into a monochrome plaid suit.

He looks over his shoulder, surprised. "I wouldn't really say it's 4D. My brain just remembers everything in relation to time and space. The constant measure of position, time, motion, that kind of stuff."

"So when you remember something, it's not like a movie, is it?"

"No. It's like experiencing the memory all over again. When I remember something, it's like living the moment again, unaware of the future, oblivious to everything else. Except it happens in a split second."

It sounds like a superpower, but Jihoon realizes the drawbacks. Soonyoung may be so used to it now that it doesn't affect him, but his brain must be active all the time, playing things over and over, and sometimes it'll feel like the past is looping over and over.

Happy things make his heart jump, again and again. Sad things hurt, angry things burn, again and again and again.

He shakes the thought away. It sounds distracting, and Jihoon can't even begin to understand how someone can adjust to this. He finishes putting on the last piece of the suit Junhui prepared for them, a gray tattersall jacket. "Anyways," Soonyoung drones to himself, swinging the plaid gray suit jacket onto his shoulder, "where is that damned Junhui?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this "chapter" is going to have like 4 or 5 parts... I think. Maybe. Anyways, I wonder who's story you guys want to hear the most XD See you next time! Which I don't know how long it'll be T_T

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comment or leave a kudos if you liked it! (I mean, you don't have to >.>; but it would be greatly appreciated!)
> 
> I'll try to update as fast as I can. Come yell at me (or just chat) on Twitter @maSHiroCombo


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